Capat de drum
by RedCyanide
Summary: It's quite odd how much a simple deskmate can deviate somebody's road through life...Comashipping
1. The boy with purple hair

**Me again…**

**I must say that this fic isn't only a blossom of my imagination (wtf, I know…), but it also makes references to how much harm the wrong entourage can do to teenagers, especially highschool students. And since I'm going to highschool this year, I hope I won't screw anything up. xD**

_**Apropo**_**, the title of the story means "End of the road" in my language.**

**I've said it before and I'm beginning to get tired of saying this, but please excuse any grammar/spelling mistakes since, as you have already figured out, English is not my first language.**

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own Pokemon. If I did, Comashipping would have been canon (in your face!) xD**

A small breeze filled with the smell of lilies ruffled through his hair, sticking out in random directions out of his red baseball. Buses were coming and leaving the station in an endless mess and sound of purring engines and brakes. The students were running around with their bags hanging on their arms, dangling dangerously at every rushed step. Stubs of conversations could be heard all over the bus station.

"Put your jacket on, dammit! You're gonna get a cold…"

"Send me some money!!!...."

"Your flowers, miss. You dropped them…"

"I'm gonna miss you sweetheart…

"Meeee?! It wasn't meeee…."

The uproar inside the station brought back some pleasant memories to the jet-black haired teenager, standing in front of a greenish-yellow school bus with a large bag in his left hand and a jacket in the other one. The first day of high-school was just like any other "first day" in any other grade in elementary school. The same indescribable fuss perfumed with flower scents. He smoothed the black fabric of his pants, a part of his new uniform, along with a white shirt and the red jacket hanging on his arm.

"Yo, Ash! I thought I lost you in the crowd" a feminine familiar voice said and in front of him appeared a red-haired girl, slightly shorter than him. Her hair, once kept short, was now long and cascading over her shoulder. Ash vaguely wondered how much his childhood friend, Misty Waterflower changed over time. She was no longer that tomboy; she had become more…appetizing. However, he doubted that her thunder punch hurt less now. Another thing that never changed at Misty was her big blue eyes, which shone with determination.

Dressed in a black skirt and white shirt, with her red jacket also hanging on her arm, she tapped her foot impatiently into the asphalt. She, just like him, was eager to start their first day in highschool. It was a new experience, and both of them couldn't wait for the chance to have a taste of it.

"Have you seen May?" Misty shook her head emphatically, her hair bouncing softly. No sight of any students they knew.

"Ahhh, I think I just saw Dawn!" before Ash could say something, the red head disappeared in the crowd, leading towards a cascade on well-combed, sparkling blue hair, held in place by two golden hairpin.

"Wait, Misty!!" Ash shouted after her and tried to follow, but student were pushing and shoving from everywhere and he quickly lost her. A new bus arrived in the station, catching Ash's attention when it braked suddenly, tires creaking agonizingly against heated asphalt. He couldn't see the plate of the bus, but he knew that the students that were now literally flowing from the inside of it weren't from around his town. Maybe from somewhere in other part of the region.

The new wave of students clashed with the other one in a sea of laughter, handshakes, shoulder tapping and welcome kisses. Looking around for Misty, Ash spotted a person sitting by himself near the bus, seemingly looking disdainfully at the students chatting happily. Ash took in appearance. He was quite skinny and pale-looking with a curtain of dark purple hair framing his face elegantly.

"Ash!" somebody shouted in his ear and he startled slightly. A boy with short green hair was gripping his elbowed quite tightly.

"Man, I shouted after you twice." The boy jerked him softly.

"Too much noise…" Ash justified, and he had a point. His eyes wandered again in the direction of the boy, but he was no longer there.

"Ketchum, Ketchum…yeah, from Pallet Town Elementary School. Mathematics/IT, second class. Come with me." Ash felt like he had been walking around the corridors for ages until the short, chubby woman leading the way stopped in front of door and opened it.

Ash stepped in. The classroom looked almost like their Math cabinet back in elementary school. The walls were covered with formulas, geometric figures and famous citations of Aristotle, Pythagoras and Thales from Millet. Wooden desks in the middle of the classroom, wooden closets along the walls, wooden, dusted floor. Everything was wooden inside the classroom, giving it a nice and neat appearance.

Students were already there, only a few seats were empty. The teacher took a sheet of paper and analyzed it for several minutes, then turned to Ash.

"Your folder is alright, Mister Ketchum." She said with importance. "Please have seat. There, next to Mister Paul." Ash's eyes wandered in the direction that her hand was giving and froze for a second. The empty seat was in the back of the classroom and the other seat was occupied by no other than the purple-haired teenager. Ash swallowed as he walked to his seat and sat down. The boy didn't even flinch, his eyes still focused on the scribbled desk. Ash's eyes fell to his own desk. The top read things like "George", "1877 - Victory at Pleven…" or "FBI"

In front of the class, the teacher was looking through other folders. Ash risked a look at his new deskmate.

"Hi!" he got nothing in reply. The other teenager ignored him completely. "I'm Ash, what's your name?"

"Paul." The answer was blunt, the boy's eyes never leaving the desk top. Ash looked over it and saw a funny-looking drawing labeled "Robert" and other things written across the desk, more exactly stubs of the lessons, a precautionary measure in case the students were examined and they didn't know a thing.

The students in front of him were starting to get bored and they were playing "X and O" or "Rock, scissor and paper". Ash felt a bit awkward, glancing again at Paul. For the first time, he got to see him better. He had onyx eyes and a deep frown always on his forehead. He looked quite sad, or angry, or maybe both. His skin was pale, sickening pale, but in contrast with his dark eyes, it looked quite…

Ash couldn't find a word to describe it, but it disturbed him at the same time. His sharp features were quite handsome, and the fact he was finding another man attractive was scaring him. He turned his head away, but something was dragging it towards the purple-haired boy again.

"Where are you from?"

"Veilstone." Another blunt answer. Veilstone, Ash thought, was quite far, yet students from there were coming here to school.

"I see." He murmured softly. He was hoping that he could get more than one-word answers from Paul during this year. Or else his first year in high-school was going to be really awkward.

"It was completely boring…" Ash heard Misty complain in the back of their bus, while they were going back to Pallet Town. Misty was in Biology/Chemistry, Ash remembered. "They put me up with some annoying Casanova who talks non-stop about himself." She grunted.

'_At least your deskmate actually talks…'_ Ash thought, remembering again about Paul. It was a new experience for Ash, and he couldn't wait to get a taste of it.

Regardless of how bitter the taste would be later.

**Hope you liked this.**

**Also, Comashipping won't be the only pairing in this fic. I haven't decided yet what other pairing will be there, so stay tuned xD**

**Reviews are welcome!**


	2. Little by little

**Hello! Thanks a lot for all the wonderful reviews! :) Aw, please, please, please wish me luck for my Math exam! If I'll get more than 9 at this exam, I'm gonna get drunk, lol. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Pokemon or any of the characters. **

* * *

Ash tried in vain to stifle a huge yawn which made his jaw moan in protest. He didn't sleep too well that night for some unknown reasons and he was woken up brutally by the drawl of a cock on the job, strategically situated under his window. He practically crawled to the bathroom, the cold water that he sprayed his face with refreshing him enough to help him find his way to the bus. There, swinging back and forth at every move the bus was making, sleep hit him again. Thankfully, May and Misty were talking heatedly about something next to him, preventing him from falling asleep.

The bus arrived in the station in front of the high school and the group disbanded. Misty walked to the left on a long, dark corridor which led to the Biology/Chemistry profile classes, May ran upstairs to her English class and Ash stepped forward on a large hall with lots of flowerpots along the walls. The door of his classroom was slightly open, but there was no teacher inside. Only students; chatting, reading or playing.

Ash felt his heartbeat increase slightly as he noticed Paul, sitting in the back of the classroom just like he was sitting yesterday: head lowered and eyes fixed to the top of the desk. Something was wrong with him, since Ash was sure that his purple-haired desk mate wouldn't find anything interesting about the things written all over the top of the desk. He quickly made his way to his seat and hanged his bag upon his chair.

"Good morning!" he said quite cheerfully, even though he still felt sleepy. All he got in response were some mumbles which didn't even resemble the words "good morning to you, too."

'_Man, he's really moody.' _Ash thought as he sat down and got his books and notebooks out of his bag, checking his homework for the last time before the teacher came to class.

* * *

The sound of the bell was like sweet music to the ears of the tired students, who couldn't wait for a chance to get out of the overheated classrooms.

"Ash, man!" A masculine voice made Ash turn around to spot the green-haired teen.

"Drew!" The boys shook hands quickly, and then headed outside. The courtyard was large, with a lot of green spaces, benches, a soccer and a basketball field.

"How were classes today?" Drew asked. If Ash remembered correctly, he was studying in English/Foreign languages profile, just like his friend May.

"Exhausting!" Ash almost hissed. "What about yours?"

"Same…" Drew said with a grin. In elementary school, Drew had been a good student, his grades slightly better than Ash's, but the jet-black haired teenager never envied him for this. It was true that sometimes Drew could be an annoying braggart, but Ash had always been friends with him, and never thought bad of him.

"Look, it's Misty." Drew said, elbowing Ash gently in the ribs. The gesture awakened some memories inside Ash's brain, memories of a little rumor that had been circulating around the school for a good period of time, a rumor that Misty and Ash had been involved into a romantic relationship. It was plainly wrong. He never thought of her that way! He always thought of her as a friend. Nothing more.

"Hi, Ash, Drew!" she greeted them, letting her herself fall on the bench next to Ash. He took a better view of the green eyed boy before telling him with a soft voice "May is looking for you." Immediately, Drew excused himself and left the two students. Misty giggled, and Ash smiled faintly.

"May and Drew…" Misty shot him a look.

"Don't tell me you haven't seen that coming. C'mon Ash, he had been giving her flowers when they were in elementary school. Red roses, for god's sake." She said with a trace of amusement in her voice. Her friend could be so dense sometimes.

Ash wasn't paying attention to her anymore. Near the soccer field, on a bench, a purple-haired teen was sitting cross-armed and glaring at the students like they had been doing him harm by walking around and being happy. Ash really wanted to know what was wrong with the boy. He never spoke a thing during classes (actually, they weren't supposed to talk during classes, but…) and always glared at people for no reason.

Ash was known for his lack of common sense, so he decided to go and talk to the boy.

"Excuse me, Misty." He stood up and walked to him.

"Hey, Paul, isn't it?" no answer, "what are you doing here by yourself?" Ash froze at the glare that those onyx eyes were giving him when Paul raised his head.

"Didn't you think that I actually like being here by myself?" Ash was actually content that he finally got more than one word per sentence from him, even though the words were quite harsh.

"You look upset." Paul's head dropped again, not before Ash could see the frown on his face deepening and carving three accentuated wrinkles on his forehead. "Maybe there is something I can do for you."

It was clear that Ash was getting on Paul nerves, but Ash never knew when to stop to prevent a disaster. He kept on pushing, hoping he'd get something good from Paul, but all he was getting was spite and ignorance.

"Sure you can do something for me." Naïve Ash got his hopes up, "leave me alone." Ash's face dropped while Paul stood up hastily, ready to leave. He walked past him to get inside the building, and Ash spotted something which made his blood run cold: three long, ugly scars across Paul's neck, starting from the corner of his jaw and traveling inside the collar of his dark-blue jacket.

* * *

During the rest of the afternoon, Ash couldn't think about anything else but that. What were those cuts? Did somebody cut Paul? Did Paul cut himself? Did those scars have to do something with his lousy mood? All those questions were making Ash's head spin uncontrollably; the boy couldn't be able to stop thinking about that. It was pretty much, obsessing him now, to find out what caused those cuts, no matter what it takes.

"Tomorrow's gonna be an interesting day." He heard Brock, an old friend of him, two years older than him, say to his colleagues. Ash's brain, already busy with all that mess, couldn't process what Brock was saying.

"Wednesday? What so interesting about Wednesday?" he said, completely confused. Brock stared at him.

"Wednesday? Ash, what are you talking about? Tomorrow is Heroes' day. Demonstrations at the monument. Can't believe you forgot!" If Brock would know what was going through Ash's head right now, he wouldn't have wondered that he forgot about Heroes' day. However, it was still quite weird since Ash always liked the demonstrations, the songs and the poems. Brock shot him a questioning look and he was responded with a tired one. Ash had a really hard day.

* * *

**I would have made it longer but it's late and I'm really sleepy xD**

**Please leave a review xD**


	3. It's gonna take a hero

Ash waved his arm around lazily, trying to chase away that stupid bee buzzing in his ears, only to realize two minutes later that it was no bee but his alarm clock; if it still could be called alarm clock after Ash smashed his fist into it, making it shut up instantly. Grumpily, he swung one leg over the edge of the bed, trying to pull himself to his feet. His ears caught the faint sound of steps on the hall.

"Ash, sweetie, hurry up! You're going to be late." The voice of his mother, Delia Ketchum, could be heard from behind the closed door. Ash made a face, but pulled to his feet and made his way to the kitchen.

The bus arrived sooner than usual and Ash was still in his slippers and with a piece of cheese sandwich in his hand. Almost choking on the last bites of food and coughing, he quickly put on his shoes and grabbed his bag, shouting a "goodbye" over his shoulder to his mother.

Inside the bus, he let himself fall into one of the seats in the back of it. In front of him, in the double seat, were sitting May and Drew, doing something which seemed like a full make out session to Ash, even though, after some questioning looks from the black-haired teen, they both said it was just an innocent kiss, with their faces red as tomatoes.

The bus took a sharp turn, heading to the center of the town, where, Ash remembered, was the monument. Heroes' day was such an important day, so the whole school was participating. Somewhere inside Ash's mind, an image formed against his will and he quickly shook his head, seemingly disturbed. It was that again. Ash couldn't get it out of his mind since he made that discovery about his new deskmate. Well, he couldn't really call it a discovery since he didn't know the reason behind it. But he was going to find out for sure.

The brakes squeaked in protest as the driver pressed the brake pedal until it hit the floor of the car, avoiding a tender kiss with the telephone pole, which he hadn't seen because of a nitwit who parked his car on the wayside. The place was already full with students, former military or ordinary people. The monument consisted of a tall, white marble column with the Christian cross on top. Hundreds of bouquets of flowers were gathered at the bottom of the column.

"Ninth grade, over here!" A short young woman who was teaching Biology guided the ninth grade students somewhere in the back of the column. Ash found a place between Ritchie, an old friend of his and a blonde girl, so tall that Ash could have sworn she was several years older than her, if she wasn't there in the ninth grade group. Before thinking, Ash turned his head around as if looking for somebody.

"Misty is there." Ritchie said, pointing somewhere to his left. Indeed, Ash spotted a red head into the crowd, but he found out that Misty wasn't the person he was looking for. His mind was protesting, saying that it was silly, but his eyes kept looking for a certain person.

"_Sprinkle on their graves_

_Leaves of laurel_

_For the sleep of blessed heroes_

_Be sweeter than before"  
_

The crowd sang along with the priest and Ash mumbled out of the reflex the words of the anthem he knew by heart. Heart which suddenly skipped a beat as his eyes met a familiar, yet so strange mop of purple hair. His lips were moving along with the words, face pale and concentrated, arms crossed against his chest. His black eyes were looking idly at something in front of him. He looked so…beautiful. Ash found himself unable to remove his eyes from him and came back to reality only when he accidentally sang the same line twice and a few head turned towards him. He quickly lowered his head, quite embarrassed. He had no idea why he was finding Paul that interesting. He didn't dare to say attractive. Ash never really dealt with things like finding somebody attractive and it was even more terrifying since the person was the same gender. For the first time in his life, Ash began to question his orientation.

"_This is completely stupid! I do not find Paul attractive. Period." _He scolded himself harshly. A new song began and Ash mentally shook his head to concentrate on the melody.

"_A historical song reminds us_

_That our brothers will never cast us aside_

_A battle song, old as the Union_

_You, compatriots, will hear." _

The song finished and students began to scatter. Ritchie motioned towards a small group including Dawn, Kenny, May and her little brother Max, but Ash stood unmoving. He spotted Paul walking away from the monument, on an alley Ash knew it led to the church. Against his will, he began walking towards Paul, hardly making his way through the crowd.

Paul started slightly when he felt a hand lightly touch his shoulder. He turned around sharply and growled annoyed. It was him again. That annoying little brat who was sitting next to him in class, Aaron, Andrew, oh, whatever! He threw him a glare which didn't seem to intimidate the boy.

Ash spoke promptly. "Hey Paul!" The lavender haired teen turned his back on him, visibly irritated.

"Hey, wait!" Ash shouted after him. "I just want to talk to you."

Paul faced him. "Oh really, about what?"

Ash swallowed, afraid not to say something wrong. "Well, things, to know each other better. We're classmates after all." Paul sniffed. "It's not like I wanted you as my classmate. I don't wanna talk about myself. Stop bugging me." He was ready to leave, when he heard something which made him stop dead in his tracks.

"What's up with those scratches on your neck? It is something wrong or…" Ash didn't get the chance to speak the whole sentence. A hand roughly grabbed his forearm and yanked it violently and he found himself staring into Paul's eyes, which where narrowed in anger.

"This is none of your business, got it?" he growled threatening, squeezing tightly the boy's arm. For a second, Ash thought that Paul was going to hit him, but a voice saved him from any harmful intentions.

"Are you guys fighting here?" it was their Geography teacher, who came to gather the ninth and tenth students and sent them to class. Paul let go of Ash without throwing him another glance, and without saying a word, he left. Ash's gaze followed him, until the teacher's voice pulled him out of the trance.

"Ketchum, get in the bus now."

* * *

Paul slammed the front door of him house so hard that the glass of the windows shook dangerously in their frameworks. A few muttered curses could be heard from the kitchen. Paul just scowled in the direction of the closed door and walked upstairs, throwing his heavy schoolbag on the table. The table shook under the weight, but he paid no attention to the protest of the wooden surface. His attention was now focused to the sound of heavy, stumbling steps on the stairs.

"You home, you little brat!" the slurred words made Paul clench his jaw angrily, but he said nothing. He unzipped his schoolbag and threw the books on the desk, then motioned for the wardrobe. He registered the creak of the door when it opened suddenly, but he tried his best to ignore it, sliding the jacket off his shoulders.

"You even forgot to salute your own father, you son of a bitch!" The door of the wardrobe closed with a loud _bang_ as the man slammed it and looked up and down at his son, which was wearing just a shirt and pants.

"You wouldn't deserve it anyway," Paul said spitefully, turning around to leave, but the man caught his arm and jerked him towards him. The lavender haired boy felt his arm contort painfully as his father twisted it with a sick grin on his face.

"You better keep your mouth shut, jackass, or I'll make sure you'll never talk again, understood?" A fist collided with the right side of Paul's face, but he didn't even wince. He knew better than howling in pain. The rough shove his father gave him sent him into the desk, hitting his back into the wooden surface. The door slammed and Paul let out a muffled curse, wiping the blood oozing from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Fucking idiot!" He took off his shirt and threw it angrily across the room. The sound of an engine purring made him realize that his father was leaving, to get another load of alcohol of course. He seemed to be alone in the house. His mother was God knows where, and his brother still had classes. Unconsciously, he rubbed his back, then suddenly remembered something and stopped.

He took the small mirror from his nightstand and examined his neck. Damn, he thought they faded away, but he was wrong. They were still visible, those three long scratched he got when his father had hit him with a vase. And that idiot saw them. Now he was going to fucking freak out and tell the whole school that "Paul has issues and cuts himself" or shit like that.

"_Stupid!" _he thought and let himself fall on his back on the bed. He still couldn't take that out of his mind. Why on Earth was that boy so concerned about his life? Nobody ever cared even a bit, not even his own parents. He frowned slightly and turned to his side, turning up his nose when the ache shot through his middle back.

Something ran through his mind. If that jackass was that interested in his life, why not let him find out, and see if he'd still be interested after that.

* * *

**Hope you liked it. Review, please!**


	4. Kick and score

He hurried his pace as he watched the circular face of wristwatch tell him defiantly that he was late for his Math class. _"Damn!" _He slurred a curse through gritted teeth. His alarm clock wasn't working since last night, when his father got angry again and threw it into the wall. He hadn't been inspired enough to set the alarm on his phone and now there he was, running around the corridors like crazy.

He stopped in front of the classroom and tapped his knuckles into the wooden surface. The teacher was already in. Paul excused himself and went to his desk. Ash was there, looking at him curiously, but lowering his gaze as soon as he met Paul's black stare. Ash had been worried about his desk mate, thinking of so many things that could keep Paul from coming to school, from simply walking up late to a car accident. Ash and his tendency to worry…

Paul put his bag underneath the table, instead of hanging it on the hook of the desk or across the chair. He could feel Ash's gaze on him, but he didn't turn around. Instead, he went searching through his bag for the geometrical kit, which he found…nowhere. He had no other alternative. He leaned towards Ash.

"Borrow me a ruler." He said shortly. Ash looked up to him, a bit surprised by his sudden speech, but he took a ruler from his kit and handed it to Paul.

"Thanks." He muttered before taking his pencil and starting to draw an oblique circular cone.

"I'm sorry for yesterday." Ash said shyly, eyes fixed on the tip of his own pencil. "I didn't mean any harm." He continued when Paul said nothing in reply. "I just wanted to be your friend." Paul raised his head from his notebook, looking at Ash. He could see the blood rush to his cheeks after the last sentence and his slightly shaking hand drew a wrong line on the figure.

"I don't need friends." He said simply as Ash took a rubber to erase the wrong lines.

"Everybody needs friends." Ash said quite cheerfully. "Friends make the world go round." Paul turned up his nose at the cheesy line. A smile appeared on Ash's red face. "Would you like to be friends?" Paul studied him intensely. Messy jet black hair, big brown eyes, tanned skin, full lips. His face was quite beautiful. Something about that little, lean body was really tempting him. A smirk appeared in the corner of Paul's lips. "Okay."

Ash's expression was of one pure joy and content, but little he knew about what was going on in Paul's head.

* * *

Classes ended quickly that day. Ash walked to the bus, when a voice stopped him.  
"Hey, Ash!" he turned around. It was Drew. "Let's go to the match." Match? Oh yes, soccer matches between localities. He kinda forgot about that. "Who's playing now?"

"Victoria and Recolta. Recolta is the best team in this championship, but they'll have a hard time against Victoria, I'm sure of this."

Drew almost dragged Ash to the stadium, a large pitch surrounded by railings. The changing rooms were outside the stadium, in a small building. Ash and Drew went to the Victoria's tribunes. Ash wasn't really keen on soccer, and he didn't support Victoria, but he followed Drew, a big fan of the team. On the opposite side of the stadium were Recolta's supporters, singing quite loudly about their favorite team. The local championship matches weren't as exciting as the main league, but they had a lot of supporters.

The teams walked on the pitch. Victoria players wore blue shirts and white shorts and Recolta wore red shirts with black stripes and black shorts. Among the eleven blue-white players, Ash spotted a mop of purple hair and his heart began to race, but it wasn't who he thought it was. That boy was older and his hair was longer and pulled into a ponytail. The referee, an old man dressed like a lemon, whistled the beginning of the match.

"Go, Marinescu!" Drew scared Ash by rising up and screaming after the player who had the ball. The said Marinescu sprinted towards the opposite goal. The uproar in Victoria's gallery told him that the player scored. Drew was jumping up and down and Ash smiled.

"See? Marinescu, he's the best striker ever." He shouted. During the rest of the first half, filled with cheers and boos, nobody scored again. The half time passed quickly and the second half began. Drew was swearing next to him, really angry that Victoria's strikers missed again.

"Are you having fun?" A deep voice said, covering the whole fuss made by the supporters and hitting Ash's ears. He turned slowly to see Paul standing behind him, arms crossed.

"Umm, yeah." He stuttered. He was waiting for Paul to take a seat beside him, but he didn't sit down.

"You don't look like you're having fun." He said, eyeing Drew, who didn't even notice that Paul was there, and Paul couldn't blame him, since he was really busy cursing when Recolta scored. "Come with me." He said simply, then started walking away. Ash looked at his back for several moments, then turned back to Drew. He won't do anything wrong if he'd leave for five minutes to follow Paul. And Drew was too caught up in the match to notice. He stood up and ran after Paul.

The purple-haired teen led him outside the stadium, to the changing rooms' building. Ash stopped when Paul stepped inside. "I don't think we're allowed in here." Paul rolled his eyes.

"My brother plays for Victoria, you know." An image flashed through Ash's mind. A tall man with long purple hair. That must have been Paul's brother. Weird, he never told him he had a brother. He never told him about his life in general. Ash had a feeling that Paul was hiding something, confirmed by those scratches on his neck. But he didn't really want to think about that now.

The building consisted of a hall with two rooms on the each side of it. Paul didn't enter one of the rooms. He stopped on the hall. That Ash must have been really stupid to follow somebody he barely knew, be it his classmate, into a place where nobody would have come, since everybody was out to the match.

It was dark inside, the little, narrow window wasn't making its job that good. Ash began to feel frightened. Paul had stopped. He turned around.

"Why are we here?" Ash asked, looking to see if somebody was coming, but there was nobody in sight. He heard steps and turned his head. Paul was walking towards him. The look on his face made him shudder slightly. He backed off, but his back hit the wall of the narrow hall. He could feel the heat of Paul's body as he leaned into him, his head resting on Ash's shoulder.

"I think we should get to know each other better, friend." The whisper tickled his ears, sending shivers down his spine. An unfamiliar thrill, different from the thrill he experienced before. It felt like he had drunk something hot and he could feel it pour down his throat and gather inside his stomach. An unfamiliar sensation of warmth in the lower parts of his body. Wrong, wrong, wrong, he thought, but it felt so right, so…pleasant. Paul's body was emanating heat. It felt like fire through his flesh, so pleasant.

Paul's head was no longer pressing upon his shoulder. His face was getting closer and closer to Ash's face. Ash's eyes closed instinctively and he whimpered softly when something soft brushed against his lips. Smoothly, their mouths pressed together, Paul's slightly opened. When he felt the wetness of Paul's mouth against his lower lip, Ash froze suddenly. What was he doing? He pulled back hastily and banged his head against the brick wall.

His vision blurred. A hand tightened around his upper left arm and pulled him closer. A fuzzy mass of purple was all he could see of Paul. He wanted to get away, but the grip was firm. Paul was much stronger than him. "What are you doing? Didn't you enjoy it?" His voice was a bit louder than a whisper and it was soft, slick, sensual. His vision cleared, but the pain in the back of his head still persisted.

"You hit yourself, you silly boy." The sentence lacked compassion; it was merely amusement. Paul was amused by the fact that Ash almost cracked his head in two. Ash felt angry: at him for using him like that, and at himself that he had been trusting him. Paul's fingers brushed against the back of his head.

"Ouch, it's a bump here." The amusement was clear in his voice now and Ash pushed the teen away from him. "Get off!" he shouted and, before Paul could take hold of him and keep him in place, he stormed out of the locker room. Paul couldn't help it. He started chuckling as he made his way out before the coach of any of the players would come. Innocent Ash…but he'll take care of that as well.

* * *

"Ash, dear, are you okay? You haven't even touched your food." Delia Ketchum said, putting a hand on her only son's back. Ash was looking idly at the untouched puree, tapping his fork into the table.

"I'm sorry, mom, I'm not hungry. May I go to my room?" he didn't wait for an answer as he stood up and went upstairs. As soon as he was there, he let himself fall on his bed. There were so many unanswered questions that he didn't even know what to begin with. What were Paul's intentions? Why did he suddenly take an interest in him? And the fact was even more disturbing, since they were both boys. So Paul was gay. Was he also gay? He tossed and turned in his bed to find a comfortable position.

The things took a horribly wrong turn, he thought.

* * *

**Hope you liked the chapter.**

**The soccer teams were inspired of Victoria Tandarei and Progresul Gheorghe Doja, but the players are fictional. If there actually is a Marinescu at Victoria, he should say thank you since I advertised him, lol.**

* * *

**Rectification: Recolta! Recolta Gheorghe Doja, not Progresul! LOL**

**And I made researches, there is no Marinescu at Victoria :))**


	5. Confusion

**One more week until the end of the 8th grade. Man, I can't wait! :)) **

**Enjoy the new chapter ;)**

* * *

The bell rang loudly through the students' ears, and Ash sighed heavily. He had PE now and the entire 9th grade was heading to the fields outside the school. He walked with his head lowered. He didn't sleep that well. The events of yesterday were still spinning inside his brain. What on Earth was Paul doing? That boy really has issues, he thought.

The PE teacher stood before them, studying them closely.

"Johnson! Your shorts are backwards, go change. We're lucky that it's sunny today, do you want to rain? (1)" The unfortunate boy headed back to the locker rooms.

"Müller, take off your jewels." A short blonde girl snorted as she took off her wristwatch and golden rings and put them into her bag.

"Ketchum!" Ash startled when he heard his name. It was possible that he had put something backwards, since he was that raving. "Tie your shoelaces or you're gonna fall." Ash looked down at his trainers. Indeed, the laces of his left shoe were untied. He bent down to tie them while a student asked what they were playing.

"Handball." He answered, throwing the boy who asked, a hyperactive blond called Barry, a ball smaller than the one used for soccer. Ash tied the laces and stood up right when the teacher spoke again.

"Paul, Barry, make the teams." Ash's throat tightened, almost hoping that there was another boy in the class with the name Paul. It was a rather common name, right? But no, it was him. The purple-haired teenager stepped in the front and took a little rock from the ground. He put his hands behind him and placed the rock into his left palm.

"Which one?" he asked Barry, stretching both first towards him. Barry studied Paul's fists with his orange eyes, then chose the right one.

"Wrong." Paul's voice vibrated, showing Barry the stone. "I go first." He said quite thoughtfully, scanning the little crowd of students.

"Ash Ketchum." He drawled and Ash felt like blood was no longer flowing through his veins, but it froze inside them. He had no option but join Paul's team. He took small steps towards Paul, who gave him a grin. Ash forced himself to look in other direction as he stood behind Paul, waiting for Barry to choose.

"I choose Ivanov." A burly, tall red-head joined Barry's team.

The rest of the teams were chosen and Ash couldn't feel worse. Because Paul chose first, Barry's team had the ball. Paul's team positioned themselves along the goal line, carefully not to step inside it. The teacher whistled shortly and the game started. Their passing was good. A girl got past the defense and shot, but Ash's team goalkeeper caught it. He passed to a short girl as Barry's team ran to their own goal line. The girl tried passing to Ash, but it slipped right through his fingers and hit him in the head. She shot him a dirty look as Barry got the ball and scored. 1-0 for Barry's team.

"Concentrate, Ash." A voice spoke into Ash's ear, making him start. Paul smirked at his jumpy desk mate. So he had been quite shaken by what happened yesterday.

"Shut up." Ash retorted, but the truth was that he couldn't concentrate at all. He got a ball in the leg and the teacher whistled.

"You are not allowed to touch the ball with your leg, Mr. Ketchum." The teacher said when Ash protested. "Pass the ball to other team." Ash threw the ball angrily towards Barry's face, hitting him in the nose and making it bleed slightly. The teacher whistled louder.

"Two-minute suspension," Ash walked outside the field. He spotted Paul wearing a big grin on his face, which made him even angrier.

* * *

Inside the locker room, everyone from Ash's team was grumbling while the others were singing and laughing. They lost 15 to 4 due to Ash's clumsiness, so he withdrew to a remote corner of the locker room to change. He was taking his shirt off when he heard a voice.

"They seem pretty mad at you." Ash threw his shirt in an instant. Paul was sitting behind him, his hair slightly damp and onyx eyes fixed hungrily on Ash's bare abdomen. Blushing, Ash looked around for his bag, but he couldn't find it.

"You're looking for this?" Ash's head turned suddenly to Paul, who was balancing a red bag on his index finger.

"Give me that." He snapped, yanking the bag from Paul and rummaging through it. He found his shirt and quickly put it on. Paul watched the last inches of tanned skin disappear under the white material.

"You thought you aren't that communicative when I first met you." Ash said, sticking his nose into the bag in search for his pants. He noticed that Paul was actually talking to him now, rather than ignoring him like he did in the first days of highschool. Yet again, he was the boy who had assaulted him at the stadium. Ash shuddered. He knew that Paul wasn't going to do anything to him there, surrounded by colleagues, but who knew. He looked up at him right when Paul took off his shirt.

Ash's mouth slightly fell open at the sight of pale skin and toned muscles. But there was also something wrong: deep, long lines across Paul's chest and abdomen, like scars. Ash swallowed.

"What are those?" Paul forced the shirt over his head and threw it into his bag, not answering Ash's question.

"How did you get those?" Ash insisted and Paul threw him a glance which made Ash lower his head.

"It doesn't matter, okay?" his tone did not allowed any replies. Ash knew something was happening. Why wouldn't Paul tell him what caused those wounds. Yet he couldn't help but steal another glance at Paul's body. This time it wasn't the scars that caught his attention. Paul was so slim, so well-built, so…

Ash shook his head and faked that he was still looking for his pants. His face was burning hot. What was going on with him? Why would he find Paul attractive? It was so wrong, especially after what happened yesterday. He should have felt awkward to be around Paul now. He should have been afraid, but he wasn't. Something was attracting him to the purple-haired boy. He was quite an interesting person. He took a deep breath and dared to speak.

"Why did you do that yesterday?" Paul's hands stopped for a second on the waistband of his pants, then pulled them off. Ash forced himself to look away from those slender legs. What the hell was going on?

"Are you gay?" the question came suddenly and Ash immediately regretted saying it. Paul pulled on his uniform pants, then looked at Ash.

"I'm not gay." Ash blinked.

"Then why…?" Paul stood up, taking his bag.

"You better hurry, Biology class begins in two minutes." And with that, he left the locker room.

'It makes no sense.' Ash thought, finally putting on his pants and walking out of the locker room. 'Do I like Paul?'

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(**1) – A superstition around here: when somebody puts a piece of clothing backwards, the weather will change.**

**Hope you liked it! Reviews are welcome!**


	6. Temptation

**Warning: This chapter contains soloM xD Read at your own risk.**

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Paul shut the door of his bedroom a bit too hard and turned the key into the lock to prevent somebody from walking in. They were all home, his mother, his father and Reggie, his older brother. He discarded his white shirt, letting it drop slowly off his shoulders before throwing it unceremoniously into the wardrobe. Same with his jeans. He put on the pants of his pajamas and climbed into the bed.

That wasn't exactly the best day he had. His father had gotten drunk again and tried to hit him. He was tired of this. Why couldn't he have a damn normal family, not a drunkard of a father and a whore of a mother? He looked disdainfully at the fading scars tracing his abdomen. God, how he wished for that fucker to die. He stomped his leg into the mattress in fury.

The hours spent at school were like a gate to escape from that lousy place he called home. But it wasn't that pleasant at school too. Paul found himself jealous at all those children having somebody to take care of them, having somebody they could talk with, somebody that loves them. He felt alone, he hated everybody.

And that everybody also included that boy Ash. His cheerfully attitude was getting on Paul's nerves, but after some time, he actually found the boy interesting. A quite good-looking. Something between a smile and a smirk spread across Paul's usually frozen lips. He remembered an image, an image he had seen today inside the locker room. Ash looked really good shirtless, he thought. He was thin, but somewhat muscular; Paul wondered how he actually got those muscles.

The sun-kissed skin looked attractive on the boy. His chest was flat and those nipples were round and soft and pink. He wondered how they would feel being rubbed between his fingers. Strange warmth grew uncomfortably into his lower stomach and his fingers travelled down his belly until they found the waistline of his pants.

He would so like to feel that lithe body tremble under him, under the thrill of being dominated. His hand slipped into his pants. A soft hiss escaped his lips when the tips of his cold fingers touched his throbbing erection. How would that feel coming from Ash; his shivering little hand would wrap around his cock shyly and start rubbing softly, then harder and harder.

In the silence of the room, Paul's breath was coming in gasps. He bit his lips, trying to muffle any moan and groan. He didn't want his parents or Reggie hear him, but it became more and more difficult as he rubbed himself harder, the pleasure blinding him. He closed his eyes. Ash. It was Ash. His smirk reappeared, painting itself on his lips. He couldn't take it anymore and couldn't suppress a moan when he came, white foamy liquid spilling all over the white covers. He pricked up his ears, but nobody seemed to hear him and his head fell tired on the pillow as he closed his eyes again.

Ash. Hn, what an annoying kid!

* * *

The bell rang seemingly louder than before when the classes ended and Ash stood up quickly to put his things back into the bag. He flung his bag on his shoulder and was ready to leave when he heard a voice behind him.

"Wanna hang around tonight?" Ash stopped. He couldn't believe that the voice actually belonged to his desk mate, Paul. Paul wanted him to hang around. That was unexpected, since Paul had avoided him all day long for some unknown reason. And he thought he'd be rude if he'd say no.

"Alright." He said.

"Fine." Came the reply and Paul walked past him without looking back. Suddenly, Ash began to regret saying he'd go. Something was going through Paul's head, and he started feeling afraid. What should he do? Go, don't go…

"Ash!" a red head belonging to Misty popped into the classroom. "Hurry up! We'll miss the bus."

"Okay, I'm coming!"

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**It's kinda shorter than the other chapters, but I hope you liked it xD Reviews are welcome ^_^**


	7. A closer look

**Warnings: adult situations and minors consuming alcohol. Quite funny that children are not supposed to be allowed to drink alcohol, but still they are blind drunk in discos.**

_**Momentan, **_**I'm being amused by some hazardous love stories going on in my village which are actually useful not only for a good laugh, but for some story ideas as well :)) **

**And I must say thank you to everyone who reviewed so far ;) You rock, guys! ^_^**

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Ash fixed his bicycle chain to make sure it won't fall off and checked the tires. He dragged the bike out of the garage then checked the brakes. Everything seemed to work properly. He hadn't used his bike in a while and he had to check it so it won't break down in the middle of the road.

The front door opened and Delia Ketchum appeared in the doorframe with a bowl of food for the dog in her hand. She examined her son, dressed with a red t-shirt, a pair of faded jeans and white trainers.

"Where are you going, Ash?" the boy turned to his mother.

"I'm going to see…" he paused a bit before continuing, "a classmate in the town." His mother nodded before going to open the gate for him.

"Thanks, mom! I'll be back soon." He said before leaving.

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The ride didn't last long. He was in the centre of the town, in a little park. It felt weird to be there without his friends, wandering by himself. And it was starting to get dark too. Ash was getting worried. What on Earth was on his mind when he came here? Paul wouldn't probably show up. And if he would show up, the idea of being there alone with Paul, at night, didn't sound too good to Ash. He was about to take his bike and go when he heard steps behind him.

It was Paul. At the light of the street lamps, Ash could see he was dressed in a purple t-shirt with a jacket, a pair of dark jeans and trainers. He held a key in his hand, which he shoved into a pocket of his jeans as soon as he approached Ash.

"Hi!" Ash muttered. He was looking down at the tips of his trainers so he didn't see Paul answering him with a small nod.

"I was thinking you would get scared and won't come." Paul said a bit tauntingly and smirked when Ash's cheek became fire red. The boy was cute when he blushed, he thought. He was cute when he was flushed and he'd be even cuter all wet and red and shivering. Paul smirked down at him.

"Let's take a walk." He said. Ash muttered something about his bike, but he assured him that he could leave it there without problem. Anyways, Ash's thoughts weren't focused on his bike now. He was walking next to Paul; it was giving him shivers to know that Paul's body was so close to his. He was a bit afraid, but fascinated. He dared to throw a glance towards the purple-haired boy. He was looking away, so he thought a little more exploration wouldn't hurt. He just loved the way Paul's tight jeans hugged his legs and – Ash blush – rear and how the shirt was clinging to his perfectly flat stomach. Paul's head suddenly turned and Ash almost broke his neck looking away.

Paul smirked. So he got him hooked, huh? By the way he was blushing and turning his head away, he never had such a relationship before. That was even better. Just wait until he was going to teach him what pleasure really meant. He leaned towards him and wrapped an arm around his waist, satisfied to feel him startle slightly.

"Do you want something to drink?" an innocent invitation, it may seem. And naïve Ash agreed. The boys led towards a small pub at the ground floor of an apartment block. Paul stepped inside with Ash behind him, who was trying to avoid any curious stares. But since the potential spies where too drunk to focus on the glass in front of them, let alone on the persons walking among the tables, he didn't have to worry too much.

Ash chose a table in a remote and more private part of the pub and waited there until Paul got something to drink. When he got back, Ash was surprised to see the bottles in his hands: beer.

"How did you get those?" Paul didn't answer, just uncapped his bottle and took a sip of the bitter liquid.

"You know that minors aren't supposed to drink alcohol." Paul rolled his eyes and reached for Ash's bottle, uncapping it and putting it in front of him on the table.

"Who cares?" Paul said, slightly annoyed at Ash's sudden outburst of justice.

"What would your parents say if they'd know you drink?" Paul's eyes went wide and for a moment Ash caught a glimpse of what Paul had been hiding. He knew he had said a wrong thing and he was scared to see the anger in Paul's eyes, but it faded away quickly. Paul tried to control himself, but the harm was already done. He took another sip to calm himself, then slammed the bottle into the table.

"They know, but they don't care." He said shortly, and Ash didn't say any more words on this subject, though he was kinda curious. He also remembered that Paul had a brother, but he didn't know what the relationship between them was and he didn't want to say more wrong things.

He found himself motioning for the bottle in front of him. He gripped it, feeling its coldness under his fingertips and brought it to his mouth, taking a sip. He let out a little cough, unaccustomed with the taste, which brought a little smirk on Paul's face.

"So," he started, "have you ever been in a relationship?" Ash almost choked on a second sip of beer at the unusual question. Why would Paul ask him such a thing? He wiped his lips with the back of hand, missing a droplet which started to trickle down his chin. Paul clenched his fist under the table, trying to resist the temptation to stand up and kiss those plump lips.

"No, I haven't." came Ash's reply, spoken with a rather embarrassed voice. Paul smirked. Poor boy, he thought with no sympathy. How would he love to push the jet black haired teen down on his knees and feel his little, hot hands pull down his pants and…

"What about you?" he caught him off guard with that question. He brought his bottle to his mouth before answering and cleared it out, then rested his elbows hard against the table.

"Yeah, somehow…" he answered, looking away. Unconsciously, Ash brought the beer to his lips for the sixth time and took a rather deep sip of liquid. His head began to feel dizzy and heavy and he settled the bottle on the table, telling a…fuzzy-looking Paul he can't drink anymore. Paul looked at the boy. Just like he thought, Ash, not being used to drinking, got dizzy after half a bottle of beer.

"We should go, then." He said and stood up, and Ash did the same with a rather idiotic smile on his face. His steps were a bit unsure and he put a hand on Paul's shoulder to keep his balance. Paul felt the touch and shivered a little, but kept himself and opened the door, letting Ash exit first. The boy shuddered and began rubbing his bare arms.

"Paul," he turned towards the boy with the same smile on his face. "I'm cold" he told him. The purple haired boy slipped the jacket off and threw it on Ash's shoulders, watching him pull it closer around his body. His eyes narrowed as he approached the teen and caught his forearms. Ash let out a small chuckle before their lips connected into an alcohol perfumed kiss. He didn't hesitate to open his mouth wide to let Paul's tongue enter his mouth and caress his own tongue softly.

"Paul," the moan sent shivers through Paul's body, feeling his member getting harder and harder, pressing uncomfortably against the rough fabric of his jeans. "Damn!" he muttered before lowering his lips to nibble at Ash's neck. He felt those slim arms wrap around his waist and smirked against the tanned, salty skin. A cheeky hand slipped under his shirt and ran up and down his back.

Paul raised his knee and pressed it slightly between Ash's legs, earning a soft gasp from the boy.

"Does this feel good?" he whispered into his ear, rubbing softly in circles. Ash clenched his teeth and nodded, the trap of his arms around Paul's waist tightening. The purple-haired boy lowered his knee and pressed his hand onto the bulge on Ash's jeans, his fingers rubbing through the material.

"Yeah…" Paul shivered at the lewd moan and pressed harder, catching Ash's mouth and kissing him ravenously. He stopped when the teen pushed softly into his chest and he pulled away to catch to breath. Suddenly, he heard Ash's alarmed gasp and stared at him.

"My bike!" it was really a miracle that Ash remembered about his bike in that moment. He started running towards the park, his steps no longer precarious. Paul ran after him. He found him in the park, looking terrified.

"Somebody stole my bike!"

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**Hope you liked this chapter, reviews are welcome!**


	8. One night

**It's getting boring here and the weather does not encourage me to go to the beach so I'm reading manga and updating stories. I've just started reading Junjou Romantica xD and it got me pretty hooked, lol xD**

**Here's the 8th chapter. Enjoy! **

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"How am I going to get back home now?"

Ash was positively desperate. His bike had been stolen by God knows who and he was never going to find it in that big town. And he couldn't go home by foot during the night. It was too far and too dangerous.

Paul watched Ash pace around him like a lion in a cage, on the verge of tears, but he didn't share his feelings. Actually, he was quite content. Without his bike, Ash couldn't go home, so he had to spend the night here, in the town, at somebody's place. An idea popped into his brain as his fingers played with the key safely placed inside his pocket.

"Why not come to my place?" he said, his tone sounding almost innocent. Almost. Ash looked at him with teary eyes. "You can spend the night at my place and then go home in the morning." The suggestion sounded tempting for the jet black haired boy and, as the last steams of alcohol still intoxicated him, he agreed to go with Paul.

Paul led him into a ward, away from the center. If in the center there still was some noise coming from the passing cars and the night clubs, the ward was completely silent. Absolutely no sound, apart from their steps on the concrete alley, was breaking through the silence of the night. The area was darker than the center, the lack of street lamps giving the region a sinister aura. Ash drew closer to Paul, who led him to a row of houses between two apartment blocks.

He pushed the gate open and the two marched through the courtyard to the door, which Paul unlocked and opened. Ash stepped in. The place was nice, but it seemed a bit messy with some cartons of juice and bottles of beer thrown on a small table and some clothes scattered on the couch. The TV was on, rambling something about some brand of detergent and how amazing it is.

"Sorry about the mess." Paul muttered before taking the remote control and turning the TV off.

"Don't worry." Ash answered. "Is it okay if I stay here for the night?" he asked. He didn't want to cause discomfort or something. But Paul assured him it was okay with a short nod.

"They're out for the night." By they, Paul surely meant his parents and his brother. "It's just us here." Something about this statement gave Ash a weird sensation of excitement and suddenly felt homier in that strange house. Paul walked upstairs and motioned for Ash to come after him.

They entered a room which Ash thought it was Paul's room. It was nice and surprisingly tidy, the only 'out-of-order' things being a broken alarm clock underneath the desk and the doors of the wardrobe, which were wide open. The windows were covered with white curtains and the floor with a thin reddish carpet.

"You will sleep there." Paul said in a tone that admitted no protest. "I'll sleep downstairs on the couch. If you need something, you better say it now and don't you dare waking me up later." Ash gave him a soft, embarrassed smile.

"Well, then, can I have a goodnight kiss?" he felt his face burn and his question rolled into the silence of the night. His head lowered slowly when he felt a cool hand brush against his right cheek and push his head upwards softly. Teasingly, the soft texture of Paul's lips touched his, then pulled back. The chilly hand moved down his cheek, tracing the curve of his neck and stopped at the collar of his t-shirt.

Eyelids swept over those brown eyes and the purple haired boy closed the gap between their lips and sank deeper into his mouth to taste the sweetish, hot cavern. Ash let Paul take control of the kiss and slowly devour his mouth. Paul's other arm wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer and closer.

The heat Paul's body was emanating was driving him insane. He knew nothing but warmth and desire. As soon as the kiss broke, his shirt had been forced over his head and thrown somewhere on the floor, leaving him with his chest bare in front of a hungry Paul.

"Ahaa." A sound between a moan and a laugh escaped his throat when Paul's burning mouth assaulted his nipple, nibbling it with his tongue and teeth. A shiver ran down his body, shaking him from head to toe. Paul's lips trailed down his abdomen and he could feel the teen smile against his skin. Ash's hands reached to cup Paul cheeks and bring his head up to catch his lips into another demanding, needy kiss.

"Do you want me?" the words poured into his ear made him shudder. Yes, yes, yes, every fiber of his flesh was screaming yes. A smirk planted itself onto Paul's lips as Ash's fingers got a grip on his shirt and pulled it off. An audible lick of the lips made Paul moan quietly.

"Your body looks so delicious." It as Ash's turn to drive Paul's senses wild with a soft whisper in the shell of his ear. "I can't wait to taste it." Paul rammed himself into Ash, knocking him onto the bed on his back. Ash let out a surprised yelp, silenced immediately as soon as Paul covered his mouth with his again into a ferocious kiss. Ash felt his lip itch and a metallic taste filled the two boys' mouths. Paul licked Ash's lip carefully where it cracked, gaining a whimper.

A pair of slender arms wrapped around his bare back, begging him to come closer, to acknowledge the sensation of skin pressed against skin, to teach him the pleasure of being touched. Paul's hands followed the curves of his hips and stopped at the waistline of his jeans. Ash's heart was pounding against his ribcage wildly, his breath heavier than before. Paul's fingers undid the button and pulled the zipper down. Then the fingers slipped into his briefs and touched the hardening member inside.

"Ssssss" the hiss made Paul giggle. Ash's hand travelled lower, caressing the curve of his butt through the rough material of his jeans. He could feel his own hard dick throb inside his boxers, rubbing against the fabric. His hands gripped Ash's jeans and slid them off his legs slowly, almost teasingly. His finger trailed up and down the bulge on Ash's boxers, satisfied to see and feel the teen writhe under him.

"Fuck!" Ash murmured and Paul broke into a smirk.

"Little Ashy had got a potty mouth." He teased, but he couldn't hold the teasing too much anymore. He was hardening quick and it got quite bothersome. He leaned down to blow onto Ash's chest and abs and then grip the edges of his briefs and pull them off. His eyes narrowed lustfully at the sight of his erection. Hard and throbbing, so delightful. His hand wrapped around it and rubbed softly up and down.

"ah!" Ash trembled at the touch of Paul's hand. It felt so good; he was shuddering, warmth and a lassitude spreading from his cock to his legs and then into his whole body. He gasped uncontrollably when Paul smooth lips touched his length, then the hungry mouth swallowed it all. Paul's tongue swirled around his erection softly.

"Uh!" with a wet plopping sound, Paul's mouth freed his cock and his hand went up and squeezed his ball softly, earning again a rain of moans and gasps. His dick throbbed uncomfortably inside his pants. He undid the buttons and threw his jeans aside, along with his boxers. Meanwhile, Ash pulled himself to his knees, his legs shaking. He wanted more of this, he wanted to experience more. Paul caught his arm and slammed his lips onto Ash's.

"Ih! Paul!" the sound of his name rolling from those plump lips made him lost himself for a second. He gripped his own cock and let out a hiss while pumping it softly. Ash drew his body closer to Paul's and gently kissed the skin of his neck. His fingers shyly searched for Paul's hand and pulled it away, gripping Paul's cock.

"Ah!" the small gasp encouraged him to go faster, rubbing Paul between his warm palms with a little smile on his face. He felt Paul's lips touch the tanned skin on his neck, licking and sucking. Ash's thumb drew circles on his balls slowly.

"Wait." Paul slurred and twisted his body, hanging over the edge of the bed and searching for something underneath it. He pulled out a small tube, uncapped it and took Ash's hand. He squeezed some of the cool substance into Ash's palm and a slight flavor of apple filled his nostrils.

"Use this." He hissed when the cool gel was rubbed onto his dick by hot hands.

"Yeah." He gasped. "Now turn around and sit on your arms and knees." Ash obeyed with no questions, giving Paul a view of his round ass. A slapping sound and a surprised shout filled the room when his palm connected with a cheek of Ash's butt. The sensitive skin was already reddening as Paul straddled him.

Ash felt the head of Paul lube slicked cock poke at the ring of his hole and closed his eyes just when it went inside, tearing into him.

"Ahhhhh!" He felt his insides stretch to welcome Paul's big erection. His teeth clenched, every thrust sending waves of pleasure down his body. His hands tightened into fists around the sheets and he strained his arms to prevent himself from falling face down into the pillows.

"Argh! Paul!" The pace slowed down for a minute as Paul lowered himself and blew onto Ash's shoulder blades soothingly before starting to thrust again, grunting everytime his body hit Ash's bottom. He began to get tired and slowly pulled himself out, breathing heavily. Ash collapsed in front of him, his back turned on him and gasping. His erection was so hard he felt he was going to burst. He felt Paul's hand on his shoulder turning him around softly. His fingers soothed his pulsing member.

In an instant, foamy liquid shoot from his cock and stained Paul abs white. Ash screamed before collapsing into Paul's arms, smiling against his pale skin. Paul's finger collected some white semen and brought it to his mouth, swallowing with a loud gulp.

"Delicious!" He licked his lips before cringing when his still hard member pulsed violently. He smiled gently towards Ash. "Will you help me with that?"

"With pleasure." Ash's breath hit his face before the boy's head lowered to take the cock between his lips and suck softly at the red, sensitive head. Paul threw his head backwards and shut his eyes tightly as Ash's tongue caressed him. A loud moan erupted before he came into Ash's mouth, the boys swallowing every little drop of milky liquid. He copied Paul's action of licking his lips seductively.

"Delicious as well."

The two boys pressed their bodies together into a warm embrace, their arms tightening around each other's waists and letting themselves fall onto the mattress in a deep sleep.

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**X…Y, Z :))**

**Hope you liked this chapter! Reviews are welcome! ^_^**


	9. Incurably

**A/N: I'm getting really bored here! I'm not really inspired right now, scooters exasperate me xD**

**Disclaimer: Roses are red, some diamonds are blue, I don't own Pokemon, and neither do you. Lol xD**

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A small, warm ray of sun blew upon his eyelids and they trembled softly, the last threads of slumber hanging heavily on them. Ash didn't want to open them; he wanted to sleep, but soon, it started to melt away and memories of what happened last night came onrush into his brain…

He jumped to his feet, eyes scanning the strange bedroom he fell asleep in. A wave of cold air hit his skin and realized with stupor that he was only in his underwear and socks. Blush crept to his cheeks when he found his clothes scattered on the carpet-covered floor, where they had been thrown last night. He pulled on his jeans, noticing a vague soreness creeping up from his bottom. He stopped suddenly. How was he going to walk down there and face – a wave of heat rose to his head – Paul? He closed his eyes in embarrassment as he pulled his T-shirt on.

He took a deep breath. He had to go there and see Paul. And he had to get back home as soon as possible. He had told his mom that he was going to be back soon; how was he going to come back in the morning and without his bike? He could have imagined his mother getting worried, tossing and turning in her bed. He shut his eyes tightly again for a moment, opened the door and walked downstairs.

At the middle of the stairs he suddenly registered some voices and stopped, listening. He could understand what they were saying, but an anxiety crept up him. What if it was Paul's parents? What would they say if they'd see him there? The voices stopped and Ash walked unsurely down the stairs until he reached the ground floor.

His eyes met a mass of long purple hair and a broad chest. The teen wasn't surprised to see him there, and if he was, he hid it really good. He felt a strong hand tap him on the shoulder.

"Ah, you must be Ash!" Finally, his eyes looked upon the young man's face. He had big and warm purple eyes and a wide and kind smile plastered to his face. His features were sharp and handsome, and if you looked better you could have seen the similarities between him and Paul. So he must be Paul's brother, Ash thought.

"I'm Reggie." He took his hand and shook it. All Ash could do was nod quickly, completely erratic. He was really surprised that Reggie greeted him with so much enthusiasm, like he was expecting him to be there. Also, there was something in Reggie's gestures that seemed somewhat sheepish, like he had done something wrong and he was trying to repair it.

"You're finally awake." The now familiar voice of Paul could be heard from behind his older brother. Ash suddenly felt like the room has got really hot and he flushed madly, unable to look at his classmate. Reggie threw them a questioning look, but Paul cut off his interest immediately. "Lover boy is waiting for you." He said, pointing somewhere behind him with his thumb. Ash was about to ask something, but the question died in his throat and an expression of shock painted itself on his face. There, in the doorframe, was standing Brock. Brock! Brock, his friend. Brock, the one who was running after girls. Brock!

Ash forgot about anything as Reggie threw them a rather embarrassed look and quickly left them. Ash just couldn't believe what he was seeing. And he remained confused until they left the house slamming the door after them and slapping Ash out of his daydreaming. God, he had to get back home soon. His eyes met Paul and he forgot about his worrying mom again. A tiny tint of crimson stained the skin of his cheeks. He couldn't look the other boy in the eyes, he felt too embarrassed, but he didn't regret what had happened. Somehow, deep inside him, he was happy. Happy. Was it a seed of a new feeling? Who knew?

He felt him move and become even more flustered when Paul's body approached him, so close that he could feel his skin radiating heat and steaming his brain into incoherency. A soft whisper in his ear made his skin crawl, shivering. "Thanks for last night!"

A soft pair of lips teased the texture of his own lips and a tongue invited him to open his mouth and give himself to Paul. His hand wrapped around his wrist like a pair of handcuffs holding him prisoner. The kiss broke and Ash let the left side of his face slide along Paul's right cheek, feeling the other's breath warm on the shell of his ear. He already forgot about Brock and Reggie. But still, he had to get back home. How…well, he didn't know.

* * *

Sweaty and exhausted, Ash opened the gate abruptly and ran inside the courtyard. He had to come home by foot, since he hadn't found his bike and there was no bus to his town. Tired and wet, he gasped as he stopped in the middle of the alley which led to front door, hands of his knees and head lowered. He heard the door open and he closed his eyes, bracing himself.

"Ash!" his mother's voice reached him. She spoke calmly, kindly, which made Ash feel even worse than he would have felt if she'd have yelled at him. "Where have you been? Do you even know how worried I was." He couldn't bring himself to look her in the eyes. He felt guilty. Her tone was calm, but she sounded so disappointed in him. If she would have been angry at him and beat him up with all the fences, he wouldn't have felt worse than now, hearing her spoke kindly and knowing that he was disappointed in him.

"I'm sorry, mom." He said. "I…somebody stole my bike and I had to spent the night at a classmate." He said rarely.

"Well, you could have at least called me so I'd know you're fine." Ash bit his lip. There was no way he would have thought about calling his mother with all that happened last night.

"Well, I believe you're hungry," Delia said, holding the door open for her son. Ash agreed and she prepared him a meal. And she brought the plate down to put it on the table in front of the boy, she couldn't have not notice the dark bruises adorning his neck, resembling the shape of some fingertips.

* * *

**Reviews are welcome!**


	10. Intermission

**Today is my birthday! : )) 15 years old already. Man, I'm getting old : ))**

**Disclaimer: Saaaadly, I don't own Pokemon.**

* * *

Paul slumped down on the chair and turned on the TV, however paying no attention to the people fussing around on screen in what looked like a mushy, silly telenovela. With a small sigh he brought his knee up to his chin and wrapped his arms around his bent legs, which still felt a bit weak. Whatever he was doing, his thoughts always flew to last night, the night he had spent together with his classmate. The heat of the blankets and Ash's skin overwhelmed him again. But there was something inside of him he couldn't quite put his finger on, something which made him look back at the night with Ash with some kind of sympathy.

His trail of thoughts had been interrupted by the creak of the door. Paul looked up. It was his brother, alone, without that freak face. Paul glued his eyes to the TV, ignoring his brother like he always did. Reggie let out a soft sigh, walked towards the kitchen, then changed his mind mid-way and turned to his brother.

"I know that you will probably say that you don't care," he began, and for a moment thought of stopping, since Paul gave no sign that he was actually listening, but he continued anyway. "Mom left." Paul didn't answer. What the hell was Reggie talking about, his mom always left. She was rarely home, like a regular mother, and when she was actually there she was dead drunk and never took care of her sons, like a fucking regular mother. He clenched his teeth.

"That's old news." He said.

Reggie's face darkened. "She left the country, Paul. She's moved abroad." Oh, that was new news. Paul let his legs slip from his grip and his feet hit the floor with a noise.

"Did she already finish all of the men in this country? Or maybe she want to change the landscape." he said disgusted. He knew very well what his so-called mother was doing abroad. Reggie's thick eyebrows furrowed slightly.

"Paul, don't speak like that of our mom. She's is trying to make money for us." Paul feels like laughing.

"Well, actually, prostitution is a way to make money, too." He said, without even turning his head towards his brother. Reggie's scowl deepened.

"Paul, I told you to stop talking like this about mom." Finally, Paul's head shot towards him and an equally angry scowl was present on his handsome face.

"Cut it out, Reggie." He snapped. "She is nothing but a whore." He stood up hastily and walked straight to his room. Slamming the door behind him, he noticed the sheets on his bed where neatly arranged. Ash. He must have made the bed. Paul smirked; he was such a girl. He pressed his hand hard against the thin sheets and the matress, a feeling of warmth and satisfaction flooding him.

* * *

Ash had been practically dragged outside of his house by Ritchie, Gary and Misty. After he ate, he went straight to his room and sank between the sheets, staring at the ceiling. As his thoughts ran back to what happened last night, his face reddedn and burned so hard that he was afraid his pillow would be set on fire. He wanted to bang his head into something hard, preferable a wall, at how embarassed he was feeling now. He felt like he'd never be able to face Paul without melting into a puddle of jelly.

When his phone began ringing, he jerked and stretched a shaky hand to check the caller ID. It was Gary. After a long conversation in which Gary threatened him that he was sending the FBI, The Carabineers and The Masked Men after him, Ash finally agreed to go out with his friends.

"C'mon, you moron, we ain't got all day." Ash ignored Gary's frustrated shout and the fist banging in his bedroom door, threatening to punch a hole through it. He dressed quickly with a pair of jeans and a red T-shirt and exited the room. In front of the door, Gary stared at him.

"Ash, your shirt is backwards." Ash's face had been once again set on fire. He went back in his room and put his shirt properly.

"Geez, you're really an airhead." The taller boy said, putting his arm around his shoulders. Outside his house Ritchie, Misty and, Ash couldn't stop a violent shade of red stain his face, Brock. The older male seemed quite nervous as well and gave him a little wave.

Ritchie came with the idea of getting icecream and now Ash was sitting on a bench licking absently his strawberry one. Suddenly, Brock sat down next to him and gave him a sheepish smile.

"I'm sorry for putting you in an awkward situation." He said. Ash smiled.

"No problem, man." He licked his lips smoothly.

"Hey, Ash." Brock continued after a small pause. "Do you like Paul?" he blinked, looking at the pink icecream melting slowly in his hands.

"I believe I do."

* * *

"**The Masked Men" (**_**Mascații) **_**– slang for Romanian Police Rapid Intervention Squad agents**

**The Carabineers – Italian gendarmerie**

**Aww, sorry it's short : ) Reviews are very welcome!**


	11. Mate

**I'm sorry for the delay, life keeps getting in the way.**

**I'm having fun watching Ukrainian soccer and trying to read the names off their T-shirts.**

**Disclaimer: Do I really have to say it again? I don't own Pokemon or any other product mentioned here. Actually I do own a pack of Kent8, but I'm trying (and succeeding) to ignore it. **

* * *

The morning came way too fast with a shrill whistle of the wind blowing harshly. Ash pulled his jacket closer around his body, taming the slight tremble of his flesh. The bus stopped abruptly in front of the old highschool and students gathered themselves from the seats.

"I have English," Misty yawned at him. "What class do you have, Ash?"

"Biology," he said mechanically.

"Great," she said. "That means we're going to class together." The Biology laboratory was right next to the English class. Ash walked next to Misty, eyes lowered to look at the brown tiles. He looked up only when he heard his name being called. His heart skipped a beat and he hardly managed to swallow a lump in his throat to be able to greet the person back.

"Paul!" Hands stuffed in his pockets, he gave no sign that he actually acknowledged Misty's presence, who had stopped walking and threw the two a suspicious look. Silently, Ash prayed that the purple-haired boy won't say anything irrelevant with his friend there, listening.

"I wanted to talk." Paul said simply. Misty just shrugged and walked off, telling Ash a hurried "see you later". Nervousness crept back into him and he fidgeted anxiously. Paul stepped closer and he dropped his head, suddenly alarmed. He wasn't going to try something with him in the middle of the school hall, right? He startled when a hand seized his forearm.

"How about we skip school today?" Ash's eyes suddenly shot up, losing themselves into pools of smouldering tar. The intense stare made his blood rush to his cheeks. Paul's words registered hard into his hazy brain, but when they did, they hit him forcefully. "S-skip school?" he mumbled. Fear seeped in the pit of his stomach first; the thought of getting caught. He thought of his mother; the disappointment in her voice still lingered into the shell of his ear. Paul's hand burned around his forearm.

"But what if we get caught?" he voiced his fear. Paul's snort almost made him jump.

"We won't." he said simply.

"But..." Paul rolled his eyes.

"You're no fun. Except for the times you are in bed." A malicious grin combined with the remark made Ash's face catch fire again. The bell rang and before he could say something Paul dragged him away. His protests were being drowned by the noise the students were making while leading to class.

"Paul, wait!" Ash yanked himself out of Paul's grip, his hand rubbing the portion of reddening skin out of instinct. The purple-haired teen crossed his arms.

"We can't just leave like that!" he protested. "Somebody could see us and drop our behaviour grades and tell our parents and..." he couldn't bear disappointing his mother again. His father's departure had been his mother's greatest disappointment. Ash still hurt at the memory; since then he promised he will never bring his mother to such a feeling again. He didn't want to fail and break his promise. Paul simply frowned at him.

"You're such a coward." he snarled. It was enough to strike Ash's ego.

"I'm not a coward!"

"Prove it!" Ash stormed past him, leading towards the school's gate. He didn't have to hide a smug grin this time. Prideful idiot...

* * *

"So what are we going to do now?"

They were in the centre of the small town, and Ash was walking backwards in front of Paul, completely oblivious to the annoyed glances his classmate was throwing him.

"Walk normally!" He finally snapped, making Ash pout and spin gracefully (or so he thought) to his left, now walking by his side.

"You haven't answered my question." Ash sing-songed, unable to keep a straight face. He knew it was wrong, but he somehow felt thrilled to be breaking the rules, even though it was just a minor breach like skipping school. Forbidden fruit always tastes better; whoever said that wasn't an idiot. Tastes so good it makes you forget about all that it's right and sink lower and lower into the pits of sin. And what's worse is that once you're there, it's hard to find the way back.

"Who said I was going to answer it in the first place?" He retorted, stealing a glance towards Ash's delighted face. Ash was new to this, and the new feeling was addictive. And that would make him ever easier to manipulate. Not that he wasn't easy to push around before as well. He suddenly turned to let and walked right into a narrow space between two apartment blocks, pulling Ash along. The sound of protest died in his throat when he realised he was a in a dark, foul-smelling place littered with cigarette butts.

"Why are we here?" Paul didn't answer. Instead, he pulled out a battered pack of Kent Blue 8 out of his pocket. Ash's eyes widened.

"How did you get those?"

"I bought them..." Paul said in a cool voice, ignoring Ash's disapproving glare.

"They're not supposed to sell cigarettes to underage persons." Paul rolled his eyes mockingly at Ash's outburst of justice. Salesmen never actually cared who they were selling their products to, as long as they were selling it. Nobody was asking him what age he was whenever he went to buy something to drink or smoke. Why can't Ash just understand that nobody actually played by the rules? Everybody played for themselves, so it would be alright for them no matter how many collateral victims that would make.

"What good does it do to you anyway?" Ash continued his rant while watching Paul lighting the coffin nail and taking a long drag.

"Helps me forget," he said shortly, blowing out smore. "Calm down when I'm angry." Although he wasn't sure that was really their effect or it was just his imagination; conceiving he was feeling better. Traces of the events that took place lately were still littering his brain.

"Mom left." He said out of blue after a quite long silence, so sudden it took Ash a while before he could register what the other had said. It was one of the few time he refered to her as 'mom' and not 'whore', 'slut' or 'that woman', but maybe that was because Paul himself wasn't half aware what he was saying. Ash took a long glance at him, but the expression on his face unreadable.

"Oh..." Paul figured Ash didn't know what to say; or rather didn't know how to say it so it wouldn't hurt his feelings. '_You care too much about other people's feelings, Ash. It might be a weakness.'_ "Why?...Where?" Ash asked shyly. He looked afraid, like he didn't know what the other's reaction would be.

"She left for Italy. For work." he could hardly bring himself to call what his mother was doing 'work'. Ash's nodded in understand and the expression on his face softened, like he felt sorry for him. Paul's frown deepened. He needed no pity.

"A lot of us have been leaving lately." he said softly. "I wonder," he stopped to swallow a lump in his throat. "How can they leave their families, their children and leave?" There was something in his voice that Paul couldn't put his finger on, something that made him raise his head to glance at the boy; and froze at the sight of wet trails staining his cheeks.

"My father left as well." he said, voice strangled. "He left me and mom and never came back." Paul's stare unfocused; so that was it. What Ash saw in him was a suffering colleague, perhaps a shoulder to cry on. Ash had many friends, but none of them knew the feeling of losing a parent. He thought that Paul would understand.

A sharp pain burned at the tips of his fingers and he dropped the stub of the cigarette in surprise. He forgot about it. Ash watched him step on it, his words ringing in his ears: _'Helps me forget."_ An internal battle was fought if he should voice the sudden urge he had. And guess who won?

"Give me one." It took both of them by surprise, this request. For a moment, Paul seemed reluctant, but he guessed he had nothing to lose (except for one cigarette). He gave it to him, along with the lighter and watched amused as Ash fumbled with it. Of course, being his first time, Ash didn't know how it's done.

"Not like this." he said, watching Ash gather the smoke in his mouth and quickly release it in a hurried puff. "Breathe it into you." he took the cigarette. "Watch. I breathe it in," he took a long drag. "I talk." he said, voice strangled as he kept the smoke inside his lungs, small puffs leaking from the corners of his mouth. "and let it out." A column of smoke rose into air. "Now try."

But the only thing Ash managed to do was choke, earning a deep chuckle from Paul.

"If you don't know how to smoke, then don't do it." Ash gave him a weak smile before glancing at his wristwatch.

"I think we should be going."

* * *

They ran carelessly through the opened gates and up the stairs before a voice made them stop dead in their tracks.

"Care to explain me why you two weren't in class this hour?"

* * *

**I don't know much about the American school system, but here we have behaviour grades which drop each time we do something wrong. But that, of course, if teachers catch us, which rarely happens. We're too smart for them xD**

**Please review :)**


	12. Seventeen

**Maths exam this week. **

**I'm doomed!**

* * *

_"Don't wish for money, fame and respect; _  
_When you're still young and you can't handle them._  
_It's the natural selection, the strongest always wins_  
_And the undeserved succes quickly fades away."_

(Parazitii - _17_)

* * *

Ash winced when the registering journal was slammed down onto the wide surface of the desk inside the teachers' room, their form master glaring at them. They both looked like two little kids caught while stealing cookies; heads lowered, hands clasped behind their backs, shifting from one foot to another.

"Skipping school and stinking of tobacco! I would have thrown you out right away!" he had been yelling at them from five minutes straight and Ash was starting to wonder if he'd ever let them get out of that room. He risked a glance towards his mate and realized with strange feeling that Paul's face was broken in a defying smile, half hidden by the purple locks falling onto his face. Like he didn't give a damn.

"You may go now," Ash exhaled louder than he intended. "I'll make sure your parents will learn of what you did." An unexplained urge to turn around and protest took him over, but before he could say anything he felt a hand grab his elbow and give him a gentle tug. The door slammed behind them.

"It's all your fault!" he exploded right after they turned left on a corridor which Ash knew it lead to the History classes. "If you hadn't come up with this stupid idea...skip school..."

"Oh, shut up! You agreed to come with me, I didn't kidnap you." There was a playful light in his eyes, like the whole situation was amusing him. What could possibly be so amusing about them getting in trouble. His mother was going to be so upset, he thought with a sigh. And he swore he would never disappoint her again.

He still had no idea what made him agree with Paul's idea since he knew from the start it was going to get them into trouble. It's like Paul was a magnet and he was made of metal; he couldn't help but give in the strong attraction; and that bothered him the most.

* * *

The door closed behind the history teacher, a pale man with the most unnerving grin someone can display. And just when Ash thought it couldn't get worse: "I have a little test for you. You have 40 minutes, no talking and no inspiring from your notebooks." He felt like banging his head into the desk when a sheet of paper landed in front of him. He forced himself to take a look at the questions.

"Define the terms: perestroika, glasnost,"

_Reforms. _He wrote it quickly before he lost the idea. If he were to make reforms, he'd make sure any trace of delinquency is erased. The irony.

"gulag,"

_labor camp; lack of freedom, exile._

He suddenly felt like choking and he loosened the collar of his shirt. Imprisonment; that's what awaited everyone who broke the rule. No exception.

"Name all the satellite states of the Soviet Union from their occupation to their break in 1989."

_satellite state. A puppet on a string controlled by a bigger power, the so called 'mother-state'. Completely manipulated._

Ash stole a glance towards Paul, becoming once again aware of the stench of tobacco they were emanating. Why did he do that? He remembered with a strange feeling that some years ago, when his father - the knot inside his stomach tightened uncomfortably - would burn out cigarette after cigarette, he made a promise to himself he'll never try it. He swore, face tear-stained, that he would never be anything like that man who hurt him the most and turned his world upside down.

And then came Paul and he broke the promise that was most sacred to him without thinking twice. It was like Paul had emptied his mind and erased everything precious to him: the innocence. A twisted innocence, but still...

The influence Paul had on him was starting to scare him, but he knew he won't let go. He could feel a special bond between them, both abandoned and forced to act all the time, each in their own way.

He had six states, and still needed one.

"What's the last one?" he whispered. Half of him expected that Paul would ignore him, but the teen glanced onto his paper and whispered back.

"Poland."

Poland, the phoenix rising from its ashes. He wondered, shall a human soul be battered into nothingness like that, would it still be able to rise from the dirt and carry on?

* * *

The gate creaked awfully when he pushed it open; bad sign, he thought. The courtyard was void of life, except for a few sparrows arguing on the washing line. Inside the house, silence. He threw the red backpack onto the floor of the kitchen and opened the fridge, suddenly feeling starved. Small footsteps across the hallway made him freeze with a tub of margarine in his hands.

"I got the call from the headmaster." she said simply, without even greeting him. Disappointment was evident in her tone. "What were you thinking? Skip school and smoke! I told, you're going to destroy yourself, your life, and you'll end up like..." Her voice became gradually louder, but died down in the end. She had almost mentioned him; she had almost compared Ash with him, and he hated that. Ash'd never be like him.

"Mom, stop telling me what to do, I'm responsible. I'm old enough to take care of myself."

"No, you're not!" she shouted louder than she ever shouted at him, but Ash felt too angry to care. "You're 17. You're still a child and you still don't know what you really want. Who gave you the cigarettes, that guy you were with?"

"Don't drag Paul into this!" Ash's shouts were getting louder themselves. "He has nothing to do with this." In his anger, he wasn't aware that he was in fact lying to himself.

"So you did this on your own initiative? I don't believe you." her tone lowered. "This is not like you, Ash."

The clatter of the tub and hurried footsteps filled the room as Ash stormed past her and left her alone.

* * *

He didn't even care he almost broke the hinges when he slammed the door of his bedroom. The silent protests gathering inside his head where threatening to burst out, and pain exploded into his right fist as soon as it landed onto the wooden surface. He was revolted, but he wasn't quite sure why. Was it because she thought him irresponsible and weak; or perhaps because she thought Paul dragged him into this. He wasn't spineless, he could have refused it anytime. In fact, if he remembered well, it was him who asked for one. But what exactly made him ask for a cigarette, when he had made a pact with himself he won't try it.

The image of Paul with a cigarette hanging from his lips was burned into his mind; and for some reason he thought Paul looked quite attractive. Dark and attractive.

He let himself fall on the bed with a sigh.

It was just a mistake. He won't do that again; he swore.

* * *

"Why are you ignoring me?"

Ash busied himself with the zipper of his bag, but the punch that landed on his shoulder made him raise his head and wince.

"Why do you care?"

"I don't care." Paul retorted, although a bit unconvincing. "I was just curious." When no reply came, he sat down on his chair and crossed his arms. Even though it was much quieter now that Ash had suddenly decided he won't talk to him, it intrigued him. Something happened. He had been avoiding him all day, not sparing a single glance in his direction. Yet, as much as he wanted to know what was eating at him, he wasn't going to force it out of him. Let the little lamb come skipping to him.

"Fine then, have it your way."

And he strolled away, very much aware of the gaze pointed straight at his retreating back; almost like they were begging him to come back.

* * *

The living room was empty when he got back home; nothing new. He set the dirty bag down the table and let himself fall on the couch, turning on the TV. The news bulletin could be as well called 'Macabre Show'; just as the bleached blonde anchorwoman was telling about a girl no older than 17 stabbed to death by her boyfriend, the door flew open and Reggie stormed inside. The enormous sports bag fell with a loud _thud_ on the floor.

"Surprise me!" Paul said sarcastically, not sparing a glance towards his brother; and missing his flushed and angry face.

"Three-nil. For the other. And coach has the nerve to say we were defeated because of me, not because our keeper is shit and he refuses to replace him." Said keeper also happens to be the mayor's son. Enough said. But usually Reggie didn't get that angry over a game. Scrap that, Reggie didn't get much angry at all; always calm, laid-back and reliable. It was something more this that.

The older man sighed while he pulled something out of his pocket.

"We're running out of money." He said quietly, but it still sounded like a death sentence. Paul said nothing, eyes fixed on the screen yet seeing nothing. Reggie usually brought money from the football team, but if the team makes no performance, the salaries will decrease. Currently, the team wasn't doing any well. And there were also no news from their mother. Reggie said she promised she'd send them money. Paul smiled bitterly. Yeah, as if.

"If he keeps it that way, we'll hit the last place in the championship, I'll be benched and I won't get three cents." He finally put down on the table what he had inside the pocket of his jacket. Paul eyed the expensive looking cellphone.

"I thought you said we're out of money."

"It's not mine. Brock left it in the Biology laboratory and asked me to pick it up for him."

"Couldn't he do it himself?"

Reggie chose not to answer. Instead he grabbed the bag and went into the kitchen to put the dirty clothes into the washing machine, leaving Paul alone in the living room once again. Paul had always found Reggie way too naive, too amiable, always wanting to help the others, and the others taking advantage of him. Reggie and Ash somehow resembled each other.

A sudden thought jolted his brain and his eyes flew to the cellphone lying on the table. Brock was Ash's friend, right? Or at least they were living in the same village. He glanced at the door leading to kitchen; it remained still. Slowly, he took the touchscreen phone and unlocked it. He pressed onto the contact list, unaware that he was silently praying it would be there. And it was, right there under the number of a boy called Aaron. He mentally congratulated himself as he pulled out his own battered mobile phone and dialed the number.

He picked up by the third ring, and Paul's breath hitched in his throat.

_"Hello?"_

* * *

__**Review..? :)**


	13. Idiot

**Parvulescu: "I'm a die-hard Dinamo fan, I can't imagine myself playing for another team."**

**Two weeks later: **

**Parvulescu "Steaua is my only love!"**

**Dinamo supporters: "We'll have your head, bitch!"**

* * *

_"Go away! Tomorrow I'll be fine.  
__So what if pain seeps in and won't leave no more."_

_(Vunk & Antonia - Pleacă)_

* * *

Ash blinked heavily, startled by the sound of his phone vibrating against the nightstand. A number he didn't know flashed across the screen and he raised an eyebrow. Who could that be?

"Hello?"

_"Ash? It's me." _Nausea rushed up his stomach to his chest. He knew that voice too well.

"Paul!" he choked out. "How did you get my number?" He didn't remember giving him his number or borrow him his phone for that matter. And more important, what did Paul have to tell him so urgently he couldn't wait for tomorrow, when they were inevitably going to meet at school. Ash felt like their roles were inverting: it was him who first stuck to Paul like scabies and now it was Paul who didn't let go. Or at least seemed he didn't want to let go. This change did nothing but confuse him more further.

_"Does that even matter?" _Ash tsk'ed. Honestly, he should have expected such answer. _"Say, what are you doing this evening?" _

He frowned, somehow taken aback. A few weeks ago, this casual conversation with Paul seemed highly improbable. He hesitated while certain images clouded his vision from the last time he and Paul had "hung around", and he thanked heavens he couldn't see him. His face must have been redder than a boiled lobster.

"Aah..." he cringed at how awkward that sounded. "I don't know." How illuminating.

_"How about you come over?"_

"I can't." The answer came naturally. He couldn't afford getting into more trouble. He was determined, or so he thought, he would redeem himself.

It was Paul's turn to be taken aback. He refused. He refused him, how did he dare? Anger grew into his chest, but he kept his head cool. He didn't know why, but he had been pretty sure that Ash would agree to come. It felt like he had just lost a battle; and he hated losing.

"_Why then?_" Irritation was audible in his tone, but Ash seemed set on his first answer.

"Because I can't, my mom's home and I've just..." He didn't get to finish his sentence as a throaty laugh erupted at the other end of line, sending an involuntary shiver down his spine.

_"Oh, c'mon! It's not like she'll notice you're gone." _That sentence sparkled the anger inside Ash. Paul was, in fact, the sole reason why he had argued with his mother; and now he made it sound like his mother wouldn't notice his absence, wouldn't miss him at all, wouldn't care at all. How would it feel, if the person your life depends on wouldn't give a damn about what happens to you? His mother rarely shouted at him, rarely scolded him, and now she did that because he was foolish enough to listen to a delinquent.

"Yeah? Well, actually my mother is always here with me. Can't say the same thing about you, though." Something broke. He didn't want it to sound so mean. He actually never wanted to hurt him, and now that he said it, guilt took over him. Too late, though.

The line went dead.

* * *

Days passed awkwardly with no words exchanged, although Ash couldn't have failed to observe crisp bandages covering Paul's knuckles and, as they came off one by one, bruises and cuts which still looked terrible even though they were at least one week old. The classroom suddenly heated up by 2 degrees and he felt uncomfortably guilty. He had been a little afraid to show up at school that next day. What if Paul would make a scene, or even punch him. Although he wasn't quite skinny himself, Paul was much stronger than him; Ash remembered when he slammed into Paul like he slammed into a wall on the handball court. But Paul gave him the silent treatment; Ash honestly preferred the punch to the nose over this heavy silence which crushed him with guilt.

A sudden tap on his back almost made him jump off his seat. Then he realized that the entire class was looking at him, including the teacher. With a quite pissed off look on his face, even.

"Ketchum, what did I say last time?" Great, that's exactly what he needed, make a fool of himself in front of the entire class. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Paul looking straight forward at the blackboard. That made him feel even worse, if possible.

"Ummm..." And he couldn't get anything dumber than that out of his mouth either.

The teacher sighed, exasperated. "I was saying that the Ottoman Empire invaded and failed to annex Wallachia. You should pay more attention, Ketchum, or else your grade will drop." Ash cursed under his breath and for a brief second he though he could hear a faint laugh coming from his left. But he was surely wrong.

* * *

The shrill sound of a whistle being blown inside the handball made him cover his ears. Ash was already prepared for another disastrous match of handball; he really had no talent for that kind of sport; but the teacher gave them a bigger ball this time and shooed all the boys to the football pitch.

"Jones, Ivanov, choose the teams!" He shouted after them while they stormed out of the court.

Ivanov was almost four inches taller than Jones and he smirked down at him before motioning to Lisowski to join him. Jones' eyes scanned the students.

"Jansen!"

Ash wasn't paying attention anymore. The feeling still hadn't left him; it wasn't like him to offend somebody, to say mean things. He always tried to be friends with everybody, but this time he failed. The lack of reaction on Paul's part was driving him crazy; he'd rather have him shout at him and beat him up, not let him drown in his own guilt.

"Ketchum. Ketchum!" He startled and looked around confused for a couple of seconds before realizing Jones was shouting his name. As he joined his side, he found himself scanning, out of instinct, the group, but Paul was already in the other. Jones quickly counted them.

"We're 13. Two of us will be substitutes." Ash looked up, suddenly realizing he didn't feel like playing at all.

"I wanna stay on the bench." he said, but Jones put him to his place. "No, you're playing." Ash sighed as the captain sent to the substitutes on the wooden benches near the pitch, and he walked to a position in the center. Once again, Jones came bitching at him. "Sorry, but I play center forward. Go as winger, you're fast enough." He muttered something not quite friendly directed to his captain, but he moved to the right wing. He wasn't the strongest player, looking even tiny compared to Ivanov and Lisowski, but he was fast, indeed. And, out of curiosity, he looked towards the other team to see who's playing left back, his direct opponent in this game. His breath caught up in his throat. Paul.

He swore out loud, without intending to, which lead to all the heads on the pitch turn in his direction.

"Can I switch sides with you, Miller?" he asked quickly, red-faced. But Miller was left-footed and less than willing to give his position.

"For God's sake, Ketchum," Jones snapped, visibly annoyed. "What's wrong with right wing?" Ash swallowed his reply.

The match started awkwardly for Ash's team. Their right back slipped the ball outside the pitch and Lisowski jumped and scored a perfect header from inside the penalty box while Ash sat there open-mouthed, highly considering the possibility that he had springs in his ankles. One nil after just two minutes and Jones was pissed off. Ash didn't get to touch the ball often, all their attacks were developing on the left wing, where Miller was stronger and sat well on his feet. When he finally got a good pass, he found himself muscled off the ball by a center back.

Jones too attempted a header, but he failed, and so did the other team's defender, who practically offered Ash the ball. He saw his chance and he sprinted with the ball at his feet. But suddenly, a purple-haired figure blocked his way. He didn't have time to react as he ran into Paul outstretched leg which chopped his ankles and he fell face-first into the ground. He didn't know what hurt most, the blunt hit he took to his legs or his head when it connected to the hard surface. He rolled on his back, shielding his eyes. He could hear Jones yelling.

"That's an yellow card! He didn't even look at the ball, he chopped his legs right away!" He involuntarily cringed. So Paul actually meant to foul him. His ankles throbbed awfully. So did his head. "Yellow card and free kick for us!" Jones' yelling wasn't helping.

"No, it's not!" A thicker voice answered angrily. "He's cheating!" Suddenly, a strong hand wrapped around his forearm and roughly dragged him up. He opened his mouth to protest, terrified as he felt his arm was going to rip at the shoulder. But the hand let go as sudden as it grabbed him.

"Get your hands off him!"

It was Paul's voice, and that surprised him. With a glance upwards he discovered something which surprised, and scared him at the same time: Paul clutched Ivanov's arm, fixing him with an icy glare. Silence took over; it seemed like not only Ash was surprised. Jones ceased his attempts to get a free kick and stared at the two.

"Hands off, you fucker!" the redhead jerked himself out of Paul's clutch and, much to Ash's horror, advanced on him, grabbing his collar and baring his teeth. By that moment, he forgot about all the pain when he jumped to his feet and marched towards the two. Jones managed to outstretch an arm to prevent him from doing anything stupid, but he already had a hold of the back of Ivanov's jersey.

"Leave him alone!" He shoved him aside, placing himself protectively in front of Paul. He barely had time to see the fist coming for his face before his lights went out.

* * *

He woke up to see a crisp white room he's never seen before, but he figured it could be only one thing.

"You're awake." a feminine voice said and a head full of strawberry blonde hair blocked his vision. "That's gonna leave a bruise, but you'll be fine." a cool liquid was being applied to his left cheekbone. Bruise. He remembered vaguely what happened. He remembered, however, well the reason why he was here, but decided it was better not to think about his when his head hurt less.

"What's you name?"

"Umm...Ketchum. Ash Ketchum." She smiled warmly at him.

"Alright, mister Ketchum, you may leave."

"Thank you!"

He left the room, and realized he had no idea where he was. He had never been to this part of the school. He was about to turn left, and hope he was going in the right direction, when a voice stopped him.

"You're a fucking idiot, you know that?"

He didn't need to turn around to know who that was. He smiled bitterly. He was a fucking idiot.

* * *

**It's almost 2 in the morning here, I apologize for any typos, too tired to doublecheck :)**

**Please review! :)**


	14. Stricken

**Mom: "I'm leaving you two just for a week, I expect the house to be whole when I return."**

**Me: "I hope you know there is a high possibility that you won't find any house when you return."**

* * *

_"I am stricken and can't let you go."_

* * *

Paul had his arms crossed in front of his chest and he watched him with a mix of emotions in his eyes; Ash could only untangle some concern and anger. Mostly anger.

"What is it with you playing hero?" definitely anger. And it was slowly taking over Ash as well. How dare he? He started it. He was always the reason why he got into trouble.

"Well, you didn't have to bother carrying me here."

"I didn't." what? "Jones dragged you to the nurse while I was in the headmaster's office with that Slavic bastard, trying to explain how you got knocked out cold." Ash didn't say anything for about two minutes. So it had actually been Jones who took him to the nurse, and for some strange reason he felt disappointed. _Disappointed for what? _he thought, _because it hadn't been Paul? _It could have been him. It would have probably been him if he hadn't been called to the principal. And what was all this fuss about? It's not like he and Paul hadn't been in trouble before; Paul didn't seem to mind it all. He hadn't thought it as a 'big deal'. Of course, there was no one at home to scold him for it, Ash realized with a hollow feeling.

And last time didn't involve him lying inert on the grass either.

"You were worried about me?" it seemed surreal, but it couldn't be another reason why Paul was so...agitated.

"Get real." And yet he gave him a gentle push, gentler than he intended, which made Ash smile softly without wanting to.

* * *

"Ouch, mom! It hurts!" To say that his mother was worried was a huge understatement. Arriving home earlier than usual, Ash notice that, for some reason; and fortunately, no one from the school had called to inform his mother about the accident. But that didn't keep her from observing how his cheek was slowly turning black and purple.

"What happened?" she asked, softly feeling his head with her fingers. Ash hesitated. If he told her what really happened, she would get mad. She would get mad at the mere mentioning of Paul's name, regardless of the context.

"I got hit at football." it was still the truth, although stripped of any details. Ash silently prayed she won't ask him to elaborate.

"How?"

"With the ball." the answer came fast, way to fast, and Ash was shocked by how naturally this lie had come to him.

"It is broken? Let me see." and she started to increase the pressure on the already bruising portion of skin, just underneath his cheekbone. Suddenly, Ash felt suffocated by all her care, almost wanting to tell her to stop. He had lied to her. So did his father, when he said he would be back to them.

"Mom, seriously, I'm fine." he jerked himself out of her arms, storming out of the living room and missing her confused and hurt expression.

* * *

Next morning everybody's head were turning in his direction. He refused to let Delia cover it with foundation, but he was starting to regret it now that everyone was whispering and pointing.

"Ash!"

"What is it?" he didn't mean to sound so grumpy, and May, as it was her who called, eyed him warily. _Great, this just isn't my day._

"How are you feeling?" she asked as Ash tried to stifle a head-splitting yawn.

"Much better now." he realized he was lying again. And May seemed to notice that too.

"You should stay away from him, really." her voice lowered, Ash almost missing what she said.

"I will." he said bitterly, thinking about the burly redhead. "Hope he'll just ignore me. I didn't have much to do with him before as well, we just ignored each other." May raised her eyebrows at him.

"Funny, I thought you two were friends." Something did not match.

"Who are you talking about?"

May's voice was nothing more than a whisper now. "Paul, of course."

* * *

By the end of the classes, Ash felt his brain would explode. Paul didn't say a word to him all day, but the whole classroom seemed to be talking about him and him only. When did he become their favorite gossip subject? He hurried to get out of the classroom, hitting some colleagues with his backpack on his way out and not even bothering to say sorry. They've been talking behind his back anyway.

He spotted what he was looking for in the middle of the hallway. He shoved him harder than he intended. "I need to talk to you."

The bathrooms were empty, and Ash glanced at his wristwatch. Thirty minutes before his bus left; plenty time to discuss. Especially since he wasn't going to beat around the bush.

"Why is everybody talking about how you punched me in the face?" Paul had an amused look on his face which exasperated Ash.

"Are they? Didn't notice. You forgot how I don't give a damn about the others say." The purple haired teen watched as Ash's cheeks got redder and redder; well, at least those parts that weren't blueish-black. The sudden urge to stretch out his fingers and touch the bruise took over him; Ash looked different beaten like that, manlier, more mature. More attractive. His eyes narrowed, and Ash's rant; was he ranting? He didn't hear a thing; stopped.

Ash backed off without intention as Paul advanced on him, a strange look in his eyes and a smirk on his face, until his back hit the wall.

"Just shut up." he ordered quietly. Slowly, he brought his hands up to cup Ash's face, his smirk growing bigger as Ash's annoyance completely disappeared from his face. His thumb brushed against the tender skin and the black haired boy winced slightly. He slumped in his arms, under his touch, intimidated. Paul smirked at the realization. He could control him. He could _hurt _him.

Lips crashed across his luscious mouth, angrily, possessively and his tongue found its way in easily; Ash denied him nothing. Obscene, wet sounds soon filled the room and Paul cupped Ash's waist with his hands, pressing slightly. Fragile, almost too fragile for a boy; he could snap him in two if he wanted. The pressure increased.

"Ow!" the small moan that escaped Ash's lips made his hair stand on end. Warm hands traveled inside the boys shirt and felt the smooth skin underneath. Ash's face looked as if it could catch fire at any moment, breath increasing rapidly as the rough hands lowered until they reached the waistband of his jeans. Paul's eyes burned holes into his skull.

"Ready?" he whispered into his ear, but didn't wait for an answer. The buttons were undone and the zipper pulled down. With one swift movement, both his jeans and boxers were pulled down, leaving him exposed and semi-erect in front of a smirking Paul. His face was burning, but any sign of protest was immediately drowned by Paul's lips on his once again. Pale fingers cupped his buttocks and his own hands crept up and curled itself into soft purple hair, all shame forgotten. Paul's mouth deliciously, voraciously devoured his as his fingers moved to caress the ring muscle between his buttocks.

Paul broke the kiss; Ash's eyes were almost pleading him. The finger slowly sank inside, and he drank in Ash's pained, but oh so pleasurable expression. Soft gasps escaped his puffy lips as it went deeper and deeper, circling inside him. "Paul..!" The boy bit his lower lip sharply_; _as much as he was trying to contain himself, he could feel his breath come out his heavier gasps, a tingling in his lower stomach already there. He pushed a second digit inside and Ash stirred against the wall, face flushed, eyes closed and a plump lip caught between his teeth. They hit the swollen spot inside him and Paul knew Ash wouldn't last long.

Muscles clenched around his fingers, his legs slowly starting to give way. Two more harsh stabs and Ash came with a sharp cry all over the bathroom floor, leaning hard against the wall behind him. His knees suddenly had the consistence of cotton, still trembling and licking his lips almost obsessively. An idiotic grin installed itself on its face and refused to go away. Paul looked down at the dirty floor and smiled carelessly.

"Looks like the cleaning lady'll have to do some extra cleaning."

* * *

Steam quickly filled the kitchen as Delia turned on the oven, then returned to the table to chop some parsley. The shrill ring of the phone made her jump slightly.

"Ash? Will you get the phone?" no response. In fact, Ash didn't even say that much when he returned from school that day. He went up to his room quite flushed, avoiding her gaze and didn't came out, not even when she called him to get something to eat. Delia had frowned at that; Ash rarely refused food.

"Ash?" still no answer. She sighed, abandoning the hatchet.

"Hello?"

_"Hello? Mrs Ketchum? It's May." _Delia recognized the feminine voice on the other end of the line.

_"I just wanted to see of Ash's okay, his phone's switched off." _Delia frowned slightly.

"He's in room. To be honest, he didn't seem quite well. Do you know what happened?" There was a brief pause.

_"I think it has something to do with Paul."_

* * *

**Review? :) **


	15. Intolerance

**My 's' key isn't working very well, so if you see a missing 's' somewhere please let me know :)**

**The weather around here can vary from "tropical summer" to "fucking Siberia" in less than 24 hours. So I'm sitting here freezing because I didn't foresee this. XD**

* * *

_"There are no drugs, just strong medicine  
There are no criminals, just young addicts with no money."__  
_

_(Spike)_

* * *

Ash made a face in the mirror. His cheek got a sickly hue of yellow, the bruise starting to fade; way too slow for his liking. _Damn, he got me pretty good. _And he laughed in his head, not sure why he found that funny. The silky material of his shirt glued to his back as he slipped it on. Other bruises, which looked suspiciously like fingerprints, adorned his hips. He sighed. He could no longer ignore the strange pressure upon his chest; it felt like someone poured hot lead down his throat and now it was heavy, dragging him down. Something troubled him.

No, not something. Someone.

The door creaked open, nearly making him jump out of his skin. "Mom.." he said quietly, fumbling with his pants and struggling to pull them on as fast as possible. "Can't you knock?" He said quite rudely. _I didn't mean it...did I?_

"I did." she deadpanned, her eyes scanning the room as if she was seeing it for the first time. As if she expected to find something strange inside it that would explain Ash's behavior. "But someone was being so deep in thought they couldn't hear a thing." Ash avoided her gaze, moving over to the backpack lying next to his bed and pretending to be searching through it. Maybe she'll leave. Maybe she'll leave him alone. Ash couldn't remember the last time he wanted to be alone. He valued friendship the most, and he always wanted to be surrounded by as many people as possible. But now he realized he did not crave any of their company. Not Misty. Not Brock. Not even his mom.

Much to his dismay, Delia did not leave. She watched him lift books only to put them back where they've been seconds ago.

"Ash, tell me what's wrong. Because there definitely is something wrong." She was looking at him, he knew that, but he couldn't bring himself to look her in the eyes. He'd break if he did. And even though he knew he'd feel better if he just told her everything, he was reluctant. What could he tell her? It was all his fault, he was too weak. Too easy to manipulate.

He clenched his fist.

"Everything is alright, mom. Honestly."

* * *

_Damn it!_

The two words repeated obsessively in his mind through the day; he went to school to find the seat next to him empty, and it stayed empty till the last school bell of the day. He stared at the number that remained into his call history for nearly five minutes, then he put the phone back into his pocket. He shouldn't call. He wouldn't call; his pride, or what was left of it, did not allow him to. He shouldn't even care; he said to himself while clenching his teeth. And then, why did he keep thinking of what could have happened that kept Paul from showing up at school?

Probably skipping classes; he said disdainfully, throwing his backpack onto his shoulder and heading for the exit. Probably thinking he's too important for this; he fumed, without being quite sure what he was so angry about it. And why did he have the impression that all those people whispering to each other around him stole glances towards him when they thought he wasn't looking. He ran his fingers through his hair; he must have become paranoid.

Anyway, there's always tomorrow.

And tomorrow, Ash undressed himself alone in the locker room and alone he had to endure Ivanov's cold eyes on him as he walked warily across the handball court. 'I hate this sport.' he muttered to himself; although in his head he revised all the rules to help himself ignore the glares.

'Rule 1: No player is allowed inside the goal area.' The teams were chosen and he somehow ended up in the same team with Jones again. 'Somebody up there hates me.' he thought as the loud teen arranged them into the field. Just because he was the school's tennis table champion and captain of both the football and handball teams didn't give him the right to act like he was some kind of a superstar. Well, actually it did...Ash bickered. It somehow irritated him, but Paul's absence went unnoticed; it also irritated him that he had no idea what happened to him. Somehow, everything was just irritating him that morning.

'Rule 2: You mustn't touch the ball with your leg." The ball whizzed past him. He wasn't any good at that sport; whenever he got the ball he just tried to get rid of it as soon as possible. It was 5 to 8 for their opponents and he already had enough of Jones yelling his vocal cords out at him.

'Rule 3: No hitting, grabbing, holding, pushing..." a rather hard jab into his back sent him three steps forward, still clutching the ball to his chest.

"Free-throw." Ash's back hit something solid again. He pushed back against it, feeling it answer with the same force. The unpleasant snicker stirred some equally unpleasant memories.

"Alone, aren't we?" Nobody passed to him, so he had no excuse to run away now. "Too bad you didn't get to see the look on your friend's face when I fucked up his ribs." Ash whirled around, coming face to face with a freckled visage, malicious blue eyes sparkling from under heavy, ginger eyelashes.

"What did you say?" Forgetting everything about how he was half the teen's size and how his past encounters with him ended, he advanced on him threateningly. The words struck him to hard to even consider that it was all a lie. But would the redhead lie? He must have had a grudge on Paul since that day when he confronted him. Because of _him_. Paul stepped between him and his classmate. It would be his fault if something happened to him. 'Stop thinking about this."_  
_

Ivanov's smirk didn't budge. He knew he'd win any fight between him and Ash, at any hour. Plus, nobody would be stupid enough to intervene; he heard Lisowski crack his knuckles behind him. Except for that freak, Paul. But he'd already taken care of that.

"You heard me, Ketchum. And you wanna know why? Because his brother is a fag. And probably he's a fag too. No wonder you hang around with him. Did he give it to you good? Did he...?" Ash didn't wait to hear the rest of the insults; he lunged forward, slamming his shoulder into Ivanov's chest. The boy stumbled and Ash advanced, determined to do as much harm to him as could. Rage blinded him; he could vaguely hear feminine cries of "No!" "No, stop them!", but nobody pulled him back. Launching towards the redhead, who still didn't regain his footing, he grabbed the front of his T-shirt, jamming his fist into his stomach repeatedly. The teen must have been taken by surprise. He didn't expect that from Ash, nobody did; hell, even Ash himself didn't believe that he'll ever hit someone with such fury. He never thought he'd be so thirsty to cause damage to someone.

'Paul, you brought out the worst in me.'

Focused on the target in front of him, Ash didn't even see Lisowski's fist coming for him, and the force of the blow send him crashing to the wooden surface. 'Damn! That's already the second time.' Whispering voices and a large hand awakened him from the state of dizziness that engulfed him. His teacher was helping him up. The two were nowhere to be seen; probably on their way to the principal. He only hoped that he won't be sent there too. But the PE teacher put an arm around his shoulders. "I need to talk to you."

* * *

Above the gym hall was a small room that the PE teacher called his office; Ash sat next to the window, nursing the swell on the side of his face with a huge bag of ice which a girl brought him from the nurse (Ash could only laugh slightly at how he imagined her face would've looked like if he showed up again with half of his face swollen).

"Mr. Ketchum, I do have to ask you, do you have any affinity for being picked up off the floor?" Ash lowered his head; the side of it, as well as his hand, was starting to freeze slowly. The heat had been more bearable. "This is already the second time this week that you're involved in a fight. And with the same person." His head was starting to ache. He wasn't in the mood for a lecture. And damn, lectures, lectures, lectures was all he was getting.

Or maybe he was entering that phase in which you think everyone is plotting against you. Could be...

"What caused this?" The cruel words rang through his head, but, as cruel as they might had been, he now found it stupid how he reacted. They were words meant to hurt him, to trigger him. He should have ignored him. He should have acted more mature. _You're 17. You're still a child._

"He said something bad about...me." He avoided mentioning Paul; he didn't know why. The man sighed.

"Just ignore anyone that's trying to make you feel inferior, okay?"`

* * *

'Yeah, okay, now what?'

He sat alone in the classroom, busying himself with his phone in order to avoid any contact with anyone. He felt like everybody around him had suddenly grown spikes and they'd hurt him if he dared to go any closer. What happened? He used to be Ash "the-ultra-mega-sociable" (freely translated as 'annoying'), but the bitter taste of intolerance made him think twice about everything. Everything except Paul. Ash had this unnerving feeling that if Paul were to tell him "jump", he will without even thinking once, let alone twice.

The bell saved him from his thoughts. Just for a moment.

* * *

When he first stepped inside the classroom on Friday, the first thing he noticed was a mop of purple hair; and then, the way he sat awkwardly in his chair, one arm draped gingerly over his midsection. The expression on his face was blank, sometimes contorting slightly in pain, but no other emotion. Involuntarily, Ash smiled.

He and Paul didn't exchange any words during classes, though. The purple haired boy just sat next to him, unmoving. Ash waited in silence for him to say something, say what happened, ask him what the clock was, anything. Paul ignored his presence, and that didn't suit Ash well at all.

At the end of the classes, Paul was the last to pack his things. Standing next to his desk, head down like a puppy waiting for his master, Ash's patience was running thin.

"When are you going to tell me what happened?" Silence. Paul slung the bag on his shoulder, cringing violently under its weight. A tanned hand invaded his personal space and grabbed the strap of the bag, pulling at it.

"Give it. You're hurt."

"No. I don't need your help." he tried to fight back, but to no avail. Ash took the bag and put it on his own shoulder.

"I'll walk you home." Paul's eyes lit up with anger.

"I'm not a fucking child." He lunged forward as fast as his cracked ribs allowed him, but Ash ducked.

"Just let me help you."

"No!"

"You can't carry it alone, I can see you're hurt."

"..."

"And I'm not leaving you until you tell me exactly what happened."

"...Ash?"

"Yes."

"Fuck off!"

Ash scoffed. "You're acting like a child."

"Oh, I'm acting like a child?!" Paul fumed, but he had to admit defeat. He just couldn't seem to get rid of Ash.

"You'll miss your bus." He said, as a one last attempt to make Ash change his mind.

"I'll hitchhike." Ash said curtly, motioning for Paul to lead the way.

* * *

Paul's house was empty; 'as it always is', Paul thought disdainfully. Ash left the bag near the coffee table in the living room, and Paul noticed a small dust of red lining his cheekbones. He swallowed.

"Did he tell you something?" Ash still didn't look at him.

"He told me something about your brother...and his orientation." Paul let out a small laugh. "And he implied that you were too...you know." The purple haired teen looked amused, his angry eyes suddenly turning playful. "And me too. So I kinda got into a fight again." Paul scoffed, turning around to dump his jacket on the sofa.

"Idiot." He concluded. "You get so worked up over what others say." Ash watched as Paul loosened his tie; he swallowed.

"So...are you? What Ivanov said."

Paul's eyebrow raised. He chucked the tie at Ash's head, who caught it with trembling fingers.

"No." Turning around, he sensed Ash's stare on his back.

"And what happened between us?" Ash's voice seemed to get a little harsher. Paul's shirt slipped off his shoulders, the bare back fully visible to Ash.

"Nothing happened between us, Ash. Just sex. It's like girls that masturbate together."

He turned around to see Ash sitting there, but his mind seemed to had flown south. It was only after a few seconds that he managed to jerk his arm upwards and look at the watch wrapped around his wrist.

"Okay then." His voice was completely changed now. "It's late, I should go."

Ash didn't even remember if he had closed Paul's front door or not.

That lump in his throat didn't want to go away, no matter how many times he swallowed.

* * *

**I****'m not even sure if handball teams have captains..oh, well, I'm not very fond of this sport either. XD**

** I was supposed to write the whole chapter last night, but I was way too sleepy. Sorry for the delay :D**

**Review? :)**


	16. Marionette

**My laptop just broke and one of my father's friends borrowed me his notebook so I can use it until I get a new one hopefully sometime next week. And I found porn in his browse history. I'm still LOL-ing :)) **

* * *

_"And you're telling me to run away,  
__but how much longer can I run?"_

* * *

Next week came by without many words exchanged. Ash was starting to get tired of avoiding Paul's gaze.

Clouds started to sift snow way too early that winter. The wind outside was colder and crueler and the Math classes were more torturous than ever. The bell rang just as Ash was seriously considering asking for permission to go to the bathroom. 'Thank goodness!'

He shoved his books inside the backpack almost violently; as if it was their fault.

He was bored, lethargic; this had never occurred before, not to him.

"Hey, Paul!"

Ash's head raised so quickly he feared he might have damaged some tendons. He caught a glimpse of the possessor of the shrill voice. Blonde, caramel eyes, quite weird fashion sense; it dawned on him that it was some classmate. Some classmate whose name he couldn't remember; didn't bother to remember, more like it. He realized he must have been staring, but the boy never noticed because his eyes were fixed on Paul.

Bile rose to Ash's throat.

"Wanna hang around?" Ash nearly laughed out loud. That idiotic little cunt was asking Paul to hang around. Ash crossed his arms, anticipating the answer. He couldn't wait to hear Paul tell that rude brat off. If he had a mirror right now, he wouldn't believe that malicious smirk that split his face belonged to him.

"Hn, okay. It was getting kind of boring around here anyway."

It took some time for it all to click inside Ash's head.

His fingernails sunk deep into his palm; he clenched and unclenched his fist several times, fighting with the urge to smash it into the desk. His chest felt constricted; the feeling was unfamiliar. His mind circled around one single concept: what the fuck just happened? Out of the corner of his eye he saw Paul get up from his chair. His head raised automatically to watch his deskmate follow the blonde boy outside the classroom.

His throat burned.

He sat up angrily. Paul was doing it on purpose, he was sure of it. He was running off with that ditz; calling him names won't solve anything, a remote piece of his mind told him; to make him feel excluded so he would come running to him once again. 'No, not this time', he told himself furiously. 'I won't fall for this game.'

Something sharp, like an elbow, landed in the middle of his back.

"Looks like your little lover ran off with someone else." Laughter erupted behind him.

He chose to ignore the coarse voice. He didn't fancy passing out on the floor for a third time.

* * *

The hall which lead to the IT class was tall and narrow, making Ash feel slightly claustrophobic. The walls were almost entirely covered with portraits of historical figures; the corridor would have been more fit for a museum. It was still early; students had to wait on the corridor for the teacher to come and unlock the classroom. Ash leaned against the wall right next to a radiator, letting his hand hover above it, enjoying the heat it emanated.

He's caused himself too much stress and too many headaches. He's tried pushing all the recent events into a corner of his mind, shrink them and lock them away, but they seemed to be too many and too strong for him to handle. They escaped, no matter how many times he tried to chase them away, and continued to blur his mind.

"Ouch!" he jumped, jerking his hand away from the radiator. Lost in his thoughts, he didn't realize he had let his hand drop, not until it glued to the metal surface which burned his skin mercilessly. The stream of words which escaped his mouth wasn't exactly academic language. He heard murmurs of disapproval that seemed to come from a group of girls somewhere to his right. He suddenly raised his head, checking if the teacher was somewhere around him; the last thing he wanted now was another lecture. What he saw, however, was even more unnerving than the prospect of a teacher hearing his sailor-like curses.

Paul walked past him, the blonde boy strolling behind him like a puppy following its master.

Ash almost touched the radiator again. He wanted to run to him. He wanted to hit him, he wanted to shout at him. He wanted to know just what the hell he was playing at.

Instead, he settled on glaring at Vyacheslav Molotov's portrait, which happened to be in front of him. He won't play his game.

* * *

"What's with the long face?"

He vaguely registered that Misty was talking to him.

"What?"

Misty rolled her eyes, but when they fixed back on him the girl looked concerned.

"Ash, you're not being yourself lately. Is everything alright?" That's the part where Misty turns into a 17 years old version of his mother, Ash joked to himself. Misty was serious though; Ash hadn't even been aware that he had cut contact with his old friends; everything he was doing was revolving around Paul; Paul was his sun and he was the planet circling him, completely dependent of him. The center of his existence. Ash struggled to shake the thought away.

Seeing how it had been a while and Ash still didn't answer, Misty shook her head softly. "If you need something, just tell us, okay? Considering we're still friends.."

Great. He was feeling guilty enough without her pointing out that he had abandoned them.

"Sure, I will, thank you!"

Inside, he knew he'll never ask for her help.

* * *

He was absolutely relieved that his mother was out when he arrived home. His room was exactly the way he left it in the morning, the closet doors open and his pajamas lying on the floor. He kicked the pants, watching them fly and land onto a flowerpot right next to the window. He fished his phone out of his jeans pocket, throwing it carelessly on the bed.

His jeans where half off when he stopped suddenly, straightening his back. He stared for a small moment at the discarded phone, before picking it up again. He slid through the call list. The number was still there. He didn't save it, but he knew it was his. He sat there with his jeans down to his knees and with his phone in his hand, contemplating. His heart was thudding in his chest. His finger tapped the screen way too lightly. Nothing happened.

He nearly threw the phone again, but something prevented him from doing so.

'Fuck it!' he decided, tapping again, this time harder. 'Fuck it' seemed to be the only answer to all of his problems lately. He grit his teeth, listening to the dial tone. What if the number wasn't actually Paul's?

_'Yeah, what is it?' _No, the voice at the end of the line was definitely Paul's. Ash almost breathed out in relief.

"What was that all about?" He nearly yelled. A small pause.

_"Elaborate." _Paul replied, 'hello's' long forgotten.

It was Ash's turn to make a small pause.

"You hanging around with that boy." now that he's said it, it sounded stupid. Ash fought the urge to hang up.

_"Am I not allowed to 'hang around' with someone?"_ Paul seemed to be losing his patience. Ash started to shake his leg nervously. _"As far as I know, I'm free to talk to whoever I want."_

What's with the sudden change in Paul's ideology? Just a month ago he didn't seem willing to make any effort to socialize with anyone.

_"Or does it bother you that I'm no longer paying attention only to you?" _Ash was gripping the phone so hard the plastic carcass was starting to crackle.

"I don't care!" he sounded like he was trying to convince himself of it, and not Paul. The chuckle he heard at the other end of the line made him tremble in anger. It stopped suddenly and when Paul talked again, his voice souding serious.

_"Ash, did you know that when a fox is rabid, it is so friendly you can actually pet it?" _

Ash stared at the wall across him. "What?" What foxes? Ash was starting to seriously consider Paul's ribs weren't the only part of him that had been damaged during his encounter with those bullies.

_"Glad to know you actually missed me." _

The line went dead.

Ash wanted to throw the phone. This whole conversation had been planned. Paul expected him to call; and if not call, to come up to him and try to discuss it. He's done exactly what he's tried not to.

'I'm an idiot.' He lost count of the times he'd told himself that particular phrase.

* * *

Paul put his phone back on the nightstand, the smile still lingering on his lips. Ash was way too predictable.

The door to the kitchen was left ajar; he pushed it open all the way. Reggie sat at the table, counting some money.

"And since when do they pay you in Euro?" he said, eyeing the broad banknotes with large numbers. Reggie didn't answer right away. He finished counting, stacking them neatly, then smiled.

"It's not my pay. They're from mom."

Paul had his back turned on him, so he couldn't see the surprise on his face. He continued.

"It's nearly one hundred, I'll go to the bank tomorrow for an exchange."

Paul was no longer listening, idly opening a carton of milk. The concept of his mother actually sending them money was ridiculous; he couldn't even believe that he and his brother had crossed her mind, especially himself, since she seemed to care a little more about Reggie, though she never showed any extraordinary affection towards the older boy either.

And God knows how she took hold of that money.

He sighed. Reggie would tell him to be grateful if he ever voiced that thought. He found it hard to be grateful, though. He will never forgive someone that contributed so much to the dysfunctional life he was stuck in.

Well, at least they won't starve.

* * *

Ash let out a small shout of protest when a hand shot out and pulled him into the girls' bathroom. And it definitely wasn't a girl, judging by the strength of the grip. He stumbled inside and the door slammed somewhere behind him. He whirled around.

"What the...?" he stopped, gawking at the sight. Paul leaned against the door, a cigarette hanging from the corner of his lips. Now that he's seen it, Ash suddenly became aware of the poignant smell of smoke.

"What are you doing here?" Ash glanced around, grateful that the bathroom was empty. He's heard that usually boys gather in the girls' bathroom to have a smoke. Paul exhaled a small puff, toying with the butt of his cigarette.

"Can't you see?" Ash sat there, watching him. The lights were switched off and the windows were small and somewhere high, near the ceiling; in half darkness, Paul's features sharpened, framed by smoke. Ash averted his eyes. He shouldn't be here. But Paul was standing in the doorway and he was sure he wouldn't let him go.

"Oh, and hiding." Paul continued. "Fucking brat thinks I need a lap dog or something." Ash scowled at him.

"You gave him attention," he spat out, almost like he was accusing him. "Isn't that what you wanted, a little puppet on a string?" Paul smirked at him, his eyes never leaving his face. Ash found it hard to hold his gaze.

"Somehow." white strings of smoke came out as he spoke. "It's not funny when they're limp in your hands, though. I like it when they put up a fight." _Like you._

Ash didn't say anything when Paul outstretched his arm and handed him the half smoked cigarette. The smirk was back on his face.

Smoke filled his lungs, blowing away all of his anger and doubts.

* * *

**Figured out who the blonde boy was?**


	17. Fox

**I know it's late, but there it is, the next chapter :)**

* * *

_I was dreaming that God was watching my back_

_Maybe when it all went to hell he was just taking a nap._

_ - _Spike

* * *

The crude drawings on the stalls in the bathroom made it look like a child's canvas. Paul traced his fingers over a swastika. A child's canvas with bad intentions.

"What do you think will happen to me if get a tattoo of this."

Ash shrugged offhandedly. "A beating, probably." Paul rolled his eyes.

"Been through that." The lighter clicked. The smell of smoke filled the room; the tall, small windows and the narrow space made Ash feel like he was on the bottom of a well. The nauseating smell didn't help either. His eyes stung.

Smoke swirled towards the tall ceiling; Ash glued the back of his head to the tiled wall. The creak of the door made him jump slightly, but it was only a petite girl which stopped and threw them a nervous glance before turning around and walking out of the bathroom. Paul let out a guttural laugh.

"We shouldn't be here." Paul's grin unnerved him as much as the thought of getting caught. Again.

"You're too tense." He exhaled, sending columns of smoke up in the air. He barely had time to catch the crumbled white pack of Kent before it smashed into his face. "Relax." Ash stared at the tobacco; the back of his throat itched in anticipation. He hesitated though.

"No." Paul's expression changed for a second, as if his mask fell. It was back there after that mere second. Rejection didn't sit well with him; he's had enough of it. Ash forced the already battered pack back into his hands. His shoulder brushed against the black-haired boy's as Ash walked slowly past him, as if expecting to be told not to leave.

No words left his mouth though; the door closed behind him agonizingly slow.

* * *

Ash walked mindlessly on the corridors; he couldn't go to class, the bell had rung nearly fifteen minutes ago and he'd surely get a lecture for being so late. Still, he had Math, a class he should not be skipping. _Shit._ He stopped in the middle of the hall, staring at the tips of his brand new sneakers. He decided in a split second and turned left, walking down the dirty white granite stairs. He felt out of place, and silently prayed he won't encounter anyone as he sped up, reaching first floor. Somewhere inside a distant classroom, a waltz played; his head hurt, the sickening smell of cigarettes still lingering on him. He covered his nose with his sleeve, but his clothes were impregnated with the scent too.

Sighing, he sat down on a step, laying his head against the iron balustrade; the cold dug into his skull, forcefully pushing him into the cruel blizzard of reality. He was lost without Paul; he's always been that type of clingy individual, but he never focused on one person only. He had once wanted to treat everybody as his friend equally, he had wanted to please everybody, but this time it seemed that his record had broken and got stuck on only one face.

The sudden change scared him; the loneliness, even more.

* * *

"Say, what are you doing tonight?"

Against his will, Ash's heart raced. Good things never came out of the proposal; he learned it the hard way. Paul towered over him; he was slouched in his chair with his arm inside his backpack up to the elbow. The presence intimidated him; he shifted in his seat, averting his eyes from his stare.

"I don't feel like hanging out." with his eyes fixed on the tips of his shoes, he missed Paul's smirk. He always missed the little hints.

"Fine, then." the tone of his voice was almost playful. "I'll go ask Barry."

Ash's jaws clenched almost immediately, more out of reflex than intentionally.

"Do as you wish."

And he walked out of the classroom calmly, secretly hoping he had somehow hurt Paul with his indifference. Indifference. What indifference, when his insides when churning at the thought of him losing the title of the sole person inside that entire place that Paul could stand sharing a conversation with? To a klutz. He sighed; he's done too much sighing lately.

* * *

"OWWW!"

The ball bounced off the wooden floor of the handball court and hit the wall with a slapping sound. The blonde teen clutched the left side of his head, throwing one of his teammates a dirty look.

"You did that on purpose!" Barry yelled. Ash crossed his arms in front of his chest defensively.

"No, I didn't, I passed you the ball. It's not my fault you can't catch it." he spitefully threw the last sentence at the blonde, as if it could injure him. Inside, he chuckled to himself. His vicious throw had hit the other boy like a comet.

"What the hell is your problem?" he seemed to have forgotten about the pain, even though the redness was obvious against his pale skin.

"My problem is you!" he yelled without actually wanting to. There was some confusion mixed up in the blonde's eyes, along with the anger.

"Ketchum, are you fighting again?" The professor's calm voice stopped Ash from yelling any further. His head dropped, suddenly ashamed of his childish behavior. Barry hadn't really done anything wrong.

"What did I actually do to him?" he overheard Barry telling that to someone. He raised his head slightly and spotted him with the ball under his arm, sitting next to Jones.

"Nothing, probably. He just doesn't seem to fit in." Jones concluded, taking the ball from Barry and throwing it across the court. Ash followed it with his eyes, mind completely empty, until it landed in front of the opposite goal. And there, Paul caught it, clean, and when his eyes found Ash, he smirked.

* * *

He regretted letting himself collapse like a boulder on the couch the moment his bottom started to hurt. He was still dressed in his school uniform, unable to find the energy to change into something more comfortable. He could hear his mother outside chatting with the old lady next door.

The phone buzzed in his pocket. Groaning out loud, he pulled it out and stared at the screen. The number wasn't in the list, but he knew very well who it was. Why doesn't he just leave him alone? Why didn't he just let Paul be the first time he had met him? No, he decided to be a nosy dumbass.

"What?" he should have picked up, but he couldn't bring himself not to.

_"Nice stunt you pulled there, dummy." _the voice on the other end sounded amused.

"Shut up!" he stood up, frustrated. "This is all because of you."

_"I warned you, Ketchum." _the tone suddenly became threatening. Ash froze in the middle of the living room. _"You insisted on invading my life, you're in way over your head. The rabid fox, remember. It looks harmless. If you're stupid enough to come any closer, you're burned. You brought this all upon yourself."_

"Fuck you and your fox, don't go dropping hints on me." Ash was pretty sure he was being a little incoherent; anger clouded his mind, even more now that a small part of it knew Paul was right. Had he stayed away from Paul, none of this would've happened. Too late now.

"I don't wanna have anything to do with you. Ever!"

Paul laughed. _"So that's goodbye? You're not gonna talk to me again? That's hard to believe." _Another malicious chuckle.

Ash ripped the phone from his ear and pressed the end button furiously. This time the fury was directed only towards Paul, but towards himself too. The others were right. He didn't fit in. He's made no friends and lost contact with his old ones. He got beat up and made himself look like a fool. And for what? He punched the door in frustration; his knuckles throbbed. His report card didn't look any good at all either. He needed to get back on the right track.

He realised he still had the phone in his hand. He looked at Paul's number, and his finger lingered a few seconds above it, before listing it under "Don't answer"; he laughed to himself.

The front door creaked; his mom was back inside. He sighed, and then with a smile on his face that defied the storm raging through his head, he went to her. He wasn't all alone after all.

* * *

Paul bit his lip, putting his phone back on the desk. He highly doubted Ash will cut him off. He had him. He played him so well, sometimes he felt so proud of himself.

Downstairs, the front door creaked. It was still early, it couldn't have been his father. Heavy footsteps rushed up the stairs.

"Paul?" It was Reggie's voice, muffled by the closed door. Paul frowned.

"What?"

A small pause. "Could you come downstairs for a moment, I need to talk to you." He didn't wait for an answer. Paul heard him going into his own room, before going back downstairs. He stood up from his seat slowly. No sound came from there; the curiosity got the better of him.

Reggie was in the living room in a coat and playing idly with the keys of his car. He didn't say anything, just nervously studying Paul's face. The younger man grew impatient.

"So? What is it?"

"Mom's back."

* * *

**Review, pretty please!**


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